You Win or You Die
by ofwingsandthings
Summary: Revision of my modern mob AU. Ned Stark left the business a long time ago, or so he thought. Unfortunately for him, he's being called back. With him, he takes his daughter, Arya, who finds herself running for her life, along with an annoying, bull-headed mechanic who is hiding a secret of his own. There are about four Sansa POV chapters in this fic.
1. Prologue

Arya sat crouched, her heart hammering in her chest, her entire body frozen in fear. All she could hear was blood pouring into her ears, and the sound of her breath, crashing like waves on rock. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress any sound, anything that would indicate that she wasn't just another shadow.

Below her, the crowd stirred.

She sat amongst crates and cargo in the rafters of a large, usually empty warehouse. The warehouse was sweltering in the summer heat, and the sound of flies hummed along with the ripples and murmurs from the crowd as they all watched the scene before them. As they all waited. Waited as the minutes dragged on like hours, the clock ticking, each second like a gunshot.

"Speak man," a blonde haired young man said, his voice mocking. "Or has the cat got your tongue?"

Arya felt a lick of fury stab her insides, and she gripped the bar she was holding, as though it were the blonde man's neck.

All attention shifted to the man on his knees, the man Arya had been watching all along. _Dad,_ she thought, trembling, _Dad what have they done to you?_

His face was pasty pale, cuts oozing from above his eye and lip, his cheeks bruised purple and yellow. He looked thinner, as though he hadn't bathed in a solid week. But it was his eyes that frightened her the most. The sunken eyes of a dead man.

_Don't say it. Don't say it._

"I, Ned Stark," the words tumbled out of his mouth in low tones, his eyes and head held up in bravery. Arya blinked back tears. "Have conspired against Joffrey Baratheon, and his father before him."

_NO!_ Arya wanted to shout out. _NO! DON'T SAY IT! DON'T!_

"I wanted to take the power for my self, and consulted with Renley Baratheon to overthrow Joffrey," and there was a long, drawn out pause, and Arya could see the struggle visible on Ned's face. "Roberts... Roberts rightful heir and son."

Arya gripped the bar in earnest, her knuckles turning white.

"I am a traitor to the Stag's."

Tears began to collect around Arya's lashes. _No you're not! _She wanted to shout. _You're not!_

Joffrey laughed. And her sadness turned to bile in her mouth.

"Sansa wishes that we send this poor piece of shit off to the Wall," he said, and for the first time, Arya stole a glance at her sister. Her heart sank. Sansa looked so hopeful, so assured. And then Joffrey turned to her, and smiled, and Arya wondered if Sansa's hope wasn't foolish after all. Maybe he was going to spare their father. "And my mother wishes for us to forget the matter and let him be pardoned."

Arya began to feel something likened to relief washing over her. It was going to be all right. Everything-

"But they are women," Joffrey said, "stupid and emotional. Mercy? Why should I show this piece of shit any mercy?"

He spat at Ned, the spit hitting his face. It ran down his cheek slowly, but Ned did not lower his head, or raise his hand to wipe it away. He stood vigilant, proud, and always honorable. Always honorable.

"He might have been my father's friend," Joffrey said, and Arya felt herself growing cold. Colder than she'd ever been. "But he's no friend of mine. He's a traitor, and he deserves to be dead."

"NOOOOO!" It was as though Sansa's shriek of pain and horror was ripped from Arya's lips. Arya would have screamed. She would have. In fact she was screaming. The shrieks in her head were enough to turn her deaf.

"NO PLEASE!" Sansa screamed, and someone ran forward to restrain her as she rushed towards Joffrey, tears running down her face already. "YOU SAID! YOU PROMISED! PLEASE!"

Joffrey ignored her.

"I believe," he said, and his voice sounded cold and... Smug. "That an executioner is in order. Illyn, if you would be so good."

Arya felt a rage likened to fire rip through her and she leapt to her feet, scrambling along the loft, dodging the boxes, blending with the shadows, still watching the scene below her. Unable to look away.

The fever of the crowd changed. On minute they were waiting... The next they needed to wait no longer. Waves of noise began to ripple through the mash of people, and suddenly there were shouts and chants. Not of disapproval... But of agreement.

They wanted her father dead just as much as Joffrey did.

_FOOLS!_ She wanted to scream. _IDIOTS! HE'S LYING! THEY'RE ALL LYING! _

She could see it, the latter where she would scramble down. And then she would race through the crowd, up to the stage and slit Joffrey's throat.

As she stumbled over a box, she saw Illyn Payne drawing from the crowd, a gun in his hand.

_No._

And then she was crashing down, a hand over her mouth and her whole body was being crushed as she struggled, screaming, but now sound came out. She tried to bite the hand that was clamped over her mouth, but it was gloved, and all she tasted was leather.

"Stay still," a voice hissed in her ear. "Stay still _boy!_ You don't want to see this!"

She was wrenched around, face to face with a greasy looking man dressed in black. _The colors of the Knight's Watch_, she thought in surprise.

Still she struggled, trying to turn around. Sansa's screams were so loud that she could hear them over the roar of the crowd.

"Look away!" The man snarled. "Look at me! You don't want to see this _boy_!"

Arya could feel tears leaking out of her eyes and she felt dizzy as the man pressed his hand against her mouth. It was all too much. The heat. The screaming. The man's hand pressed over her mouth, blocking the air. Her father.

He wrenched her forward, staring straight into her eyes.

"Look at me!" He commanded. "Look at me."

She shook her head, tears beginning to run down her face.

"Look at me," he whispered, and this time, it wasn't harsh. It was almost a plea. "You don't want to see this."

And finally, she complied.

Her heart began to beat in her ears in a steady rhythm, racing in her ears and in her body so fast that it was painful. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _

"Look at me."

_BANG!_

**And I just couldn't resist giving you guys this little taste of my Mob AU. I probably won't be writing more on it until I finish No Blacksmiths and Hot Pie at the Wedding, but here's a preview of what is to come**


	2. A proposition

**Okay so explanation: To clear some things up, I really didn't enjoy writing the fix the way I had been writing it, and I realized that I had always really wanted to write it this way instead, and so I scraped the old chapters and replaced them with these. Same premise, same basic story, just a totally different way to go about it. Arya is still 16, soon to be seventeen, and this is still the mob, it just starts in a different place and a few things have been changed. The old chapters aren't gone completely, and if you want to read them, there's a link to them on my profile where my information is. If you didn't like those chapters, please give this story a second chance. I promise this new approach is way better!**

** Gendry**

Gendry was exhausted. His fingers were slick with grease and sore, aching like an old man's, stiff and unsightly as he rubbed them together, trying to work out the tension and the numbness in them. It had been stupid, he knew, to go back to work at such a vigor after what he had done last weekend, but if Gendry was one thing, he was stubborn. He was not about to let defeat in the ring mean defeat in his work. But... though he had tried with all his might to keep his work up to its usual standard, there was no denying that the fighting was starting to lower his performance. And his boss was starting to notice as well.

But the taste of money had been so sweet, and he needed money, desperately. His job at _Tobo Mott's_ mechanic shop paid him only scrapings, just barely enough to buy groceries and toothpaste. He kept trying to save up, but his piggy bank was empty, its belly hollow and its eyes pleading. Every time he passed it, he felt a stab of failure. No matter how hard he worked on one car after another, it would never be enough. At this rate, he would never have enough to buy his own shop.

Every day his dream seemed to be pinched smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a joke, just like the piggy bank that sat on his dresser with nothing but a few coins. The joke seemed to mock him just like his coworkers.

"Wants to own his own shop," they'd croon. "Trash, that's what you are kid. Your mother was a whore and your father, well... Who knows? Who cares? No one like you is going to own their own shop."

Those were fighting words, and Gendry _was_ stubborn. Every time they mocked him, he would grit his teeth and repeat the words in his head. _That's what you think, _he'd say to himself, _but I'll show you sorry lot. I'll show you all._

And that's what he endeavored to do. Whether it was honestly or not was the only thing. Gendry would have liked to do it honestly but... with some things you had to get your hands dirty, just like with cars. And so he took to the ring.

He was big, he knew, and strong too, but he woefully lacked technique. What he had been thinking when he stepped into Robert Baratheon's ring he could not say. A fool would even flirt with the mob, or so much as _glance_ at Robert Baratheon, the man who ran it, and his horde of blonde haired Lannisters. But Gendry had gone _willingly_, talked to the right people and gotten himself a spot in the fighting pit, all in honor of Ned Stark's arrival in King's Landing. The smell of money, of thousands of crisp, green bills had turned him crazed, he knew, and when he had been beaten bloody, he had learned his lesson.

Gendry was done with fighting, and he was done with shady deals and getting his hands dirty with anything but car grease. It would take a long time, and it wouldn't be easy, but he would get his own shop and he would get it honestly, by god, or he wouldn't get it at all. _I'm not that person, _he told himself, _I might be a white-trash bastard, but I'm not a vicious, greedy killer. I'm not so self centered as to grab for things that I didn't earn._

Yawning, he stretched and finally turned off the lights, shuffling towards the door that would lead to the basement. He couldn't afford to live on his own, so his boss had let him use the little cramped room under the shop. The plumbing was shit, and the electricity flickered, and he had caught more then one rat, but Gendry liked living so near the shop and the cars. It allowed him to work as long as he wanted, and often that was well into midnight. As was the case now.

He opened the door and turned on the lights, which blinked on and off feebly, and started down the stairs, shutting the door behind him. It creaked loudly, like it always did, and he had to jiggle it to get it to shut. Yawning, he descended the shifty stairs and into his little cramped room, trying not to rub his eyes with his still dirty hands.

Some idiot had tried to put wall paper on the cement walls, but the moisture from the faulty pipes had sent it peeling. Gendry had tried to rip it off, but some of it just refused to be torn away, so there it stuck, clinging to the walls in a death grip and looking hideous. Besides the paper, there were a few things taped up, like a calendar and a few pictures of Gendry's favorite cars, but not much else. His dad had never been in the picture, and his mother hadn't been one he would ever want to put on his wall.

Shuffling past the bed with the saggy mattress, Gendry went into the small space of the bathroom and washed his hands, scrubbing away the grease until they were clean. Dried blood swirled down the sink as well as the dirt and grease, and he had only himself to blame. He had gone down kicking and screaming, but he had gone down just the same.

"Those are some impressive cuts, boy."

Gendry let out a yell and jumped, slamming his knee into the sink and swearing loudly, his eyes exploding in pain as his knee throbbed. He whirled around, facing his intruder, his entire body seizing.

"Fuck you," he snarled, gasping. There was a dark chuckle, and then Yoren stepped into the light.

The light wasn't much improvement. Ugly and thoroughly unbathed, Gendry was surprised he hadn't smelled him a mile off. Yoren had the look of a homeless man, were it not for the nice but bruised leather jacket and new pair of black boots. He was a member of the Night's Watch, a police force up North that kept the peace... while conveniently ignoring the mob.

"We want no part in any of it," Yoren had said to him once, but Gendry had a hard time believing it. It was hard to believe something was keeping the peace when it was asking you to kill someone.

"This is no part of the Night's Watch," Yoren had snarled. "You'll be good to remember that."

Whatever it was, Gendry had done it, damn him. He had been young, angry and stupid. After his mother's death, he had been homeless and expelled from school, a kid of sixteen, full of rage at his father who hadn't bothered to give a fuck and at the world. Yoren's offer of money and a way to unleash his pent-up rage seemed brilliant to him. Dangerous, a face to beat that he would never have to see again, but along with that had come money and promise. Promise for a better future.

It was a few robberies, mostly, and odd jobs that Gendry didn't really know what were all about, but he had played his part blindly, knocking out guards and beating people bloody. But when one job had gone wrong, and all hell had broken loose, Gendry had been forced to kill a man, and that had ended it all in one great, crashing glory. After that, he washed his hands and got his head straight, graduating high school and collecting what little money he had saved to work at Tobo Mott's. He had never, _ever_, expected to see Yoren standing there, in his room, still smelling the same. He probably hadn't bathed since Gendry had last seen him.

"That wasn't very kind," Yoren said with a simpering look. Clutching his knee, Gendry glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" Gendry demanded through clenched teeth. "I thought I told you I've done with you! I'm not working for you anymore."

"I know what you told me," Yoren said, looking around the room and chuckling. "But I couldn't help but think you'd regret that decision when you hear what I have to offer."

"I don't care what you have to offer!" Gendry snapped, straightening up. "I don't want to hear it! I want you to get out!"

"Not very friendly, are we?" Yoren sighed, sucking the air through his disgusting teeth.

"I ought to report you to the Night's Watch!" Gendry shouted at him. "All the shit you've done! How long do you think they'd lock you up for?"

"Not longer than you," Yoren shot back him, his eyes black and steely, but not threatened in the least.

"How'd you even get in here anyway?" Gendry demanded. "The door's jammed, I would have heard you... How long have you been in my room?"

"A couple of hours," Yoren said with a shrug. "Your toilets a bit messed up, I must worn you. And your bed isn't too comfortable either. I can't help but think you're not happy in a shitty dump like this."

"I am," Gendry snapped. "I'm perfectly happy, so you can get your smelly ass out-"

"No, you're not," Yoren cut across him lazily, drawing something out of his jacket. Gendry flinched, thinking it might be a gun, but then he saw that it was only a vanilla colored folder. "Or else you wouldn't be entering illegal, underground boxing matches."

Gendry felt his cheeks flare.

"How'd you know that?" He demanded but Yoren laughed.

"Trust me," he said, "that was easy. So is this job, if you will take it."

He chucked the folder onto the bed between them. Gendry made no move to take it, he just glared. Yoren laughed again.

"You are stubborn, aren't you boy?" He said, shaking his head.

"I'm not a boy," Gendry said angrily. "I'm twenty-one-"

"Oh ho ho," Yoren cut across him drily. "Pardon me, you looked like a boy, dependent on everyone around you, living in some basement with a shitty job-"

"I love my job!"

"-and a shitty life, with no prospects, no education, and no parents. Looks to me like you could use yourself a fairy godmother."

"Oh and you're supposed to be her?" Gendry shot back fiercely, but he knew, in that moment, that Yoren had him. Because he was right... About all of it. Maybe not about the job, but it was one thing to be the greasy boy everyone kicked around. It was another to own your own car shop.

"There's big money in this," Yoren said softly, totally serious. "More money than you could ever dream of."

Gendry eyed the folder warily.

"What do I have to do?" He demanded. "I'll not bloody my hands again, not ever."

"I can't promise anything," Yoren said gravely. "You'll have to look and see for yourself."

Reluctantly, his heart swelling with apprehension, he reached out and gently took the folder, picking it up and staring at it, his fingers running over the smooth surface.

"Well, are you going to finger it or are you going to open it?" Yoren snapped. Patience was lost on him. Gendry scowled, but did as he was told.

"Arry the orphan boy?" He said dubiously, raising his eyebrows. Yoren did not so much as blink.

"That's right," he said with a nod.

"And... And all I have to do is protect this kid?" Gendry asked, sure this was some sort of fluke.

"Make sure he comes to no harm, that's right," Yoren said with a nod. "All the way to the Wall."

"What's so important about this kid if he's just an orphan?" Gendry wanted to know. "What's so valuable about keeping him safe?"

"Never you mind," Yoren snarled gruffly. "There will be no questions, only an answer. Are you in or are you out?"

Gendry looked back at the name. _Arry_. Just that. Nothing else. This little kid could be anyone. He could be the presidents son, or some bastard, just like Gendry, who had been born to the wrong parents at the wrong time, and someone wished him harm. The thought made Gendry feel a strange sense of trepidation, and he rubbed the back of his neck, the hairs standing on end.

"Well?" Yoren demanded.

"Sorry," Gendry sighed, though it did taste sweet. He threw the folder back. "I've got my job and I'm not about to ditch it."

"I had a feeling you might say that," Yoren said with a sigh, turning to go. "So I fixed that little problem."

"What?" Gendry demanded, confused.

"You don't have a job anymore," Yoren said, turning back to him with a wane smile. "You're fired."

"You can't do that!" Gendry shouted. "You don't know how hard-"

"I can, and I did," Yoren said sharply. "Save it kid. There's a bus, leaving at eight o'clock tomorrow. Be on it."

And with that, there was a loud creaking from his weight on the stairs, and then Yoren was gone, the door shutting behind him.

_Arry. Arry the fucking orphan boy. _Whoever he was, he had given Gendry a world of trouble, and Gendry had a bad feeling that this kid was about to give him more.


	3. Caught

**Arya**

It was a freezing morning. Freezing for the south, that was. The South knew nothing of cold, and yet it was the coldest place Arya had ever felt. She never felt so icy and numb in Winterfell, which was where people complained the true cold was. _The air might have been filled with snow, _Arya thought to herself, _but it never cut to the bone. It never touched my heart. _The cold here touched her heart.

She had to wear a jacket over her thick hoodie, a boys jacket of course. Even so, she wished for the gloves she used to carry around with her like some sort of charm. Her fingers were cracked and cold, and she had to rub them together to rid herself of the numbness in her bones. _Cracked old woman's hands, that's what I have, _she thought to herself. _No, man's hands. I have the hands of a boy now. That's what I am._

She followed sullenly behind Yoren, her head bent low. The sun had just come up, and it would warm everything soon, and then everyone would forget the cold. But Arya never would. No sun could warm the chill that had settled deep within her core. While everyone walked free, Arya walked in chains, bound and dogged by things she dared not even speak of. _There's no point in thinking about it if you can't talk about it, _she had told herself that morning when she lay awake, unable to sleep. So she did not think about it, or at least, she tried not to think about it.

That was the thing about ghosts, they haunted people.

"Keep your mouth shut," Yoren snarled, breaking her from the cold and her wondering thoughts. "And remember who you are. This lot would sooner rape you than help you, and they'd turn you in to those blonde haired shits faster than I can break wind, so keep you damned mouth shut."

"I'm Arry," Arya recited dully. "The orphan boy."

"What is this, the fucking Grimm brothers?" Yoren snarled. "You sound like you're reading me a fairytale."

"I can lie," Arya snapped sullenly.

"So could your father," Yoren said, equally as sullen. "I don't care if you can lie. Any half wit idiot can lie. I want you to lie _well_."

"Don't talk about my father!" Arya shouted, furious.

"No, that's right," Yoren said, taking her roughly by the arm and whipping her around to face him, "you don't have a father, do you? You're just some orphan shit, aren't you?"

Arya glared at him, feeling tears of defiance flood into her eyes, but she pushed them back. She would not be a crying little girl now. That was her elder sister, Sansa's job. _Sansa_. She pushed Sansa away too. She was no longer Arya Stark, who lived in Winterfell with her mother and father and brothers and sister. She was no longer a girl of sixteen, soon to be seventeen. No, she was a boy now. A nobody. Because Arya Stark was in danger, and they had taken all those lovely things from her. Her family. Her father.

"That's right," she said, her voice ringing in her ears, as though it wasn't even hers. "I'm just another piece of shit on that damn bus."

Yoren leaned back, and then he laughed.

"Don't trust anyone, _boy_. And don't cause any trouble, or draw any attention to yourself," he said sternly, and for a second, Arya wondered if he actually _cared. _But it was gone as soon as it came, and he was just a disgusting man who worked for the Night's Watch.

"Now hurry up," he snapped, pushing her forward. "I've got no favorites, mind. You are like you said: just another piece of shit on that bus."

Arya slouched towards the great big bus, her hands shoved in her pockets and her head bent low. She didn't want to be noticed. No one, _no one_ could know that she was a girl. It was good that she was small, she would blend in better.

"Would you look at that shrimp," a voice hooted and Arya flinched. Apparently it _wasn't _a good thing to be short.

"I bet he hasn't even gone through puberty yet," another said, equally as mocking. "He looks like a girl."

"I am _not_ a girl!" Arya shouted, wheeling around to face them.

There was a fat boy, almost as wide as he was tall, gloating at her, a stupid expression on his wide, flushed face. Next to him stood a gangly youth with hands that looked like they were died green, of all things. He was ugly too, missing a few teeth and his hair probably hadn't been washed in ages.

They were both laughing.

"You _sound_ like one!" The one with the green hands said. "And you're skinny. What are you, some sort of chick with a dick?"

"I'm a boy!" Arya shouted, growing angry. "Leave me alone."

She drew out Needle, she had been resting heavy in her pocket, and flipped the button on the switch. The blade glinted in the morning light.

"Oooh," the fat boy said, his eyes round and almost lusty.

"I like that," the one with the died hands said. "I want it. Give it to me."

"I'll sooner cut your hand off," Arya snarled. She would never, _ever_ let go of Needle. Needle was _her_ knife, and her half brother Jon had given it to her. Holding Needle was like holding onto her family, and she was not about to let some stupid delinquent take it from her.

"Let's have it," the fat one said, swiping for Needle. Arya jerked her blade away. "Give it to me or I'll kill you."

"What are you going to do, sit on me?" Arya demanded. Someone in the crowd snorted.

The fat boy's face turned bright red.

"Listen ugly, if you don't give it here-"

"Oh leave him alone," a deep voice behind Arya said, cutting off the boy with the green hands threats. "Or it'll be _me_ you deal with."

Arya spun around so fast she almost tripped and fell, which would have been disgraceful. When she was Arya Stark, and her father was Ned, she had a fencing master, named Syrio, and he had taught her to be light on her feet. What would he had said if she tripped and feel over her own feet? She would have won all sorts of medals and trophies if she had been able to continue her lessons. But now... Lessons seemed stupid and pointless.

"Steady there."

A large, firm hand gripped her arm, steadying her. Arya wrenched away quickly, embarrassed, and looked up. She nearly screamed.

_That's it_, she knew in a rush. _It's over. It's over and I'm dead._

She wished she could take it all back. She wished she had just kept walking when they called her a girl. She wished she had never even gone to that stupid boxing match.

But she hadn't had a choice, she hadn't! She _had_ to go. There were things she didn't understand, her dad had told her, but she did understand. She understood that Arya Stark was the daughter of Ned Stark, and Ned Stark, in another life, had been part of the mob. And when you were part of the mob, it never left you.

It had come back to haunt her father, and all of them, only a few weeks ago when Robert Baratheon had rolled into town in a white limo and demanded that Ned come back to the old life with him. They had been best friends, and Arya knew that there had been something going on, something that she hardly knew about, but it made her father go with Robert back down south.

"To help run the casino," Ned had told her, but she knew that was a lie. Yoren was right about lies. Anyone could lie. Not many were good at it.

So they had gone, her, her father and her older sister Sansa. Down to King's Landing, to live in Robert's casino called the Red Keep. The casino was a front, Arya knew. A front for even less savory deals than those on the betting table. It was a sweet front, fancy and elaborate. Sansa had loved it. Sansa seemed to have an aptitude for loving things that looked pretty on the surface but were really rotten on the inside.

Robert Baratheon had wanted the boxing match. While Sansa loved pretty things, Robert Baratheon seemed to love violent things. That was all he ever talked about, 'the good old days' with her father by his side. Arya hated to think of her Dad the way Robert talked about him. Ned seemed to hate it too. Every time Robert would mention a job, or something from the past, her father's face would turn to stone.

"You _have_ to go!" Sansa had fretted. "Robert wants us to, and you know who he is-"

"If I gave two shits about who he was-"

"You're insufferable!" Sansa had cried. "I am so done even trying with you!"

And with that she had stormed off into the dressing room, her pink dress she had been trying on trailing behind her. Dress shopping was something that Arya hated, but Sansa loved, and Cersei had insisted that they do.

"A treat on me," she had said with a poisoned smile, her teeth looking like a snake's fangs. Arya hated Cersei, Robert's wife, almost as much as he did. She was a horrible woman, but Sansa loved her of course. Sansa was stupid.

_But I miss her. I miss her all the same._

Once they had found Sansa's perfect dress, and Arya had found one that didn't make her want to rip it off and put it through a shredder, they had walked back to the casino through a flea market. That was where she had found it. The wolf necklace.

Sansa had tutted and whined about being late, but Arya paid her no mind. She had been transfixed by the shape of the metal, melded and blended so beautifully. The wolf seemed to move as she shifted it back and forth in her hand, the sun sparkling against it.

"A local artist," the vender had said with a shrug. "Works in a car shop and does these on the side sometimes. It's ten bucks if you want it."

"Ten?" Sansa had scoffed. "Hardly worth one."

Arya had paid the whole ten gladly, and wore it around her neck that night. Never had she enjoyed wearing a piece of jewelry more. Sansa's horrified tattling had been an added bonus.

"You're wearing too much make-up," Sansa had fretted. "And the cut of that dress is far too low!"

"What do you care?" Arya had snarled. "You're always saying I don't have tits anyway."

"I never say that!" Sansa had protested.

"Just shut up," Arya had groaned, tired of all her stupidity. Sansa had given her a look of pure hatred before turning on her heel and flouncing away. She even flounced prettily, damn her. Sansa did everything prettily, but her tits were nothing to brag about, Arya remembered thinking grumpily as she followed her down to the Pit.

The Pit was the place where Robert Baratheon held his illegal boxing matches. It was huge, as big as a bowling alley. Bigger, probably. There was the ring, where the opponents would be knocking each others teeth out, and then there was a large area on three of the sides of the square ring, where the people who had paid their way in could stand and watch and cheer. On the other side there were a row of seats. Seats where Robert already sat, barely fitting in his chair, his blonde wife Cersei sitting next to him, and then his son Joffrey.

Sansa smiled at Joffrey. Arya nearly puked in her mouth. She _hated_ Sansa's new boyfriend. Joffrey was disgusting and vile and horrible. He was every curse word Arya could think of, but of course Sansa was blind. She would never see it. _Stupid. Can't you see past the shine to what's really underneath?_

But she hadn't. Sansa, in some ways, was younger than Arya ever was. She loved to be the center of attention, with her beautiful blonde boyfriend and her pearls that he had given her, and her green flowing dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair done up in coils, just like Cersei's. Everyone loved her.

If everyone loved Sansa, it was not the same for Arya. There were whispers from the older women and her father just shook his head. Cersei's glare followed her, though, and Arya glared right back. Let the bitch glare. By now it almost suited her face.

Arya wore a black dress with a scooping neck and a skirt that was fitted. Her arms were bare, and she wore no other jewelry other than the wolf necklace, that swung from her neck on a thin strip of leather that smelled of car grease. Her eyes were lined thick, and her eyeshadow a deep black and purple, but she cared not what everyone thought. _Let them think I'm a whore_. She had thought vindictively. _They're all whores anyway._

The fighting had been dull at first. Sansa was in all a dither about it, blabbering on and one about how hot so and so was. Arya tuned her out and watched the fighting, her eyes on the technique of the fighters. Most had no technique and just hit like stupid apes, but some had skill, and danced like she had in fencing.

Loras Tyrell was good, and his family had ties with the mob as well. There was a huge, hulking man they called _The Mountain_, appropriately named and lethal. He hit a young man so hard his neck snapped and broke.

That had caused some hysteria from the girls in the crowd, daughters of mob men, and they were escorted promptly from the Pit. To Arya's surprise, Sansa was not one of them. She looked surprised, and a bit white faced, but there was a fascination in her eyes, and as she looked at the man being dragged away, she took Arya's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. It was so unexpected that Arya didn't pull away. Not right away, anyhow.

"Look Arya," Sansa said, as if forgetting herself. As if forgetting that she disliked this little sister who embarrassed her. "Here comes Jory."

Arya did look, but it was not Jory that caught her eye. It was his opponent.

"Oh dear," Sansa said, "he looks scary."

He did not look scary.

"He's strong," Arya corrected her sister.

And he was. Bigger than Jory, but not older. He couldn't be older than twenty-one, broad shouldered and thickly muscled. He shook his head and flicked his thick shaggy black hair out of his eyes. Arya couldn't see what color they were.

It was apparent he had no technique, but his strength impressed Arya. He had taken Jory out with only a few blows, and Jory was no twig. She wished she was that strong. If she had his strength, Joffrey would never be horrible to her again.

He did fairly well for himself in the ring, and Arya suddenly found herself following him as Sansa followed Loras, who was beautiful and good looking even though he was covered with blood and sweat. The strong boy wasn't bad looking either, Arya decided, but that mattered not to her. All she cared about was his strength, she knew.

But then, well... He had to step into the ring with Loras. Arya and Sansa were on the edge of their seats, both rooting for the other young man. Sansa fretted and bit her lip as the black haired boy delivered a thunderous blow to Loras's jaw, sending him flying.

"HIT HIM AGAIN!" Arya found herself screaming, leaping to her feet and beating at the railing. Sadly, the black haired boy never got the chance. Loras, it turned out, was full of technique, and soon the black haired boy was on his knees, gasping.

"COME ON!" Arya cried, bouncing on her feet, but it was no use. Loras finished him, and he was out cold and being dragged off the mat in a matter of minutes.

The rest of the match was a boring blur to her. Loras won, and gave Sansa a rose, and of course Sansa would not shut up about that damned rose. Or Loras.

"You have a boyfriend," Arya had snarled, sour as they sat and waited for the crowd to thin.

"No thanks to you," Sansa had sniffed, clutching her rose to her chest. Arya had rolled her eyes and stood up, tired of waiting.

They wove through the crowd, but there were too many people, and one minute Sansa was next to Arya, being annoying, and the next she was gone, disappeared between a smelly fat woman and a skinny looking drunk.

"Sansa?" Arya had called out, but no one replied.

Frantic, she pushed through the crowd, getting pushed and prodded as she did, her head whipping around, searching. And then her eyes caught something, just as Sansa returned to her, fretting. She had seen the boy with the black hair, and she had seen the color of his eyes. Blue.

The very same blue that she was looking at now.

The black haired boy was here, on the drive to the Wall, and he was staring right down at her.

**Cliff hanger dun dun dun...**


	4. Wicked Games

**Warning: this chapter has some content that is not for the faint of heart (violence/abuse and some molestation). **

** Sansa**

The room was dark. The curtains were drawn, only a thin strip of light spinning in from the space where they met, the dust swirling in the exposed light like a thin spider web. Sansa watched it from her perch on the floor, curled up into a tight ball, her knees to her chest and her heart beating hollowing within her breast. She waited, not daring to so much as breathe. When she did, it was silent, muffled, and she used her hand to cover the sound.

'_I must make no noise,' _she told herself as she rocked back and forth, trembling. '_Or they will remember me, and then I will be dead.'_

She squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked from them as she rocked back and forth, a low, whimpering sound escaping her throat. '_Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.'_

She saw his face. Lined, so serious at times, yet so loving. His eyes were wide, and when he looked at her, she knew (though she pushed it back), she knew that he had accepted that this was the end. '_There was a disappointment there,' _she thought, squeezing her eyes shut until they hurt. '_He was disappointed that I could not admit the truth to myself.'_

The truth was there, though, and it revealed itself at its ugliest. How she had screamed. She still felt like she was screaming.

"NO! YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T! JOFFREY PLEASE!"

_BANG!_

Sansa screamed, scrambling back in horror until her back hit the wall, and then there was no where to hide. Curling into a ball, she cried quietly, her gasps of fear and terror choking her. She raised a shaking hand to her mouth to silence herself. She must not make a sound. They must not remember her.

There was a crunch, and then a crash, and the door banged open. Sansa jumped, in spite of herself.

"Where are you?"

It was _his_ voice.

Sansa pressed her hand to mouth until she thought she would push her teeth in.

"I know you're in here," his voice said softly, and Sansa shook. "Come out, come out where ever you are."

She whimpered, tears of terror running down her face.

"Stop playing with your food," growled another voice. The Hound's voice. "The poor thing's been through enough as it is."

"It's her damn fault," his voice said, sounding annoyed. "Enough of this. Find her."

Sansa heard the sound of boots against carpet, and then the windows were yanked open, and she was blinded by light.

"Got you," a gruff voice said, and Sansa felt herself being yanked to her feet.

"No," she sobbed. "Please! Leave me alone! Please."

The last part was such a whimpering pity that she felt sure that it had reached Joffrey's heart. '_I loved him,' _she thought to herself, '_he loved me. I know it. He must have. He MUST.'_

"You look horrible," Joffrey said, sounding disappointed and revolted.

"You beat me," Sansa heard herself say, but it sounded like another person. Arya. Someone who had fire; while the real Sansa, the stupid Sansa, sat huddled and afraid. "But that wouldn't be fair, would it? You would never have the guts."

She screamed as the man that was holding her, back-handed her, and she crashed to the ground, gasping in pain, blood pooling anew in her mouth.

"You would dare insult Joffrey?" the thug cried. "When you know who he is?"

"Enough," Joffrey snapped, sounding bored. "Get up."

Sansa did not. She merely shook.

"I said GET UP!" He screamed, changing from bored to deranged in a matter of seconds. It was Sansa's terror that wrenched her to her feet.

"This will not do, this will not do, this will not do!" Joffrey said, pacing, and Sansa noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. "I hate you like this! Ugly! I like you pretty! You must be pretty!"

Sansa had nothing to say to this. Her head ached and her heart ached and she ached body and soul and she cared not for how Joffrey liked her. She wished he would get it over with. Stick a pistol to her head and shoot her.

"Change," Joffrey said. "I want you to change. I don't want to look at you when you're sniveling."

"I want to go home," Sansa heard herself say in a low voice. "Please take me home."

"You want to go home?" Joffrey asked with a crazed laugh. "You want to go home? This is your home you stupid girl! And when you're eighteen, and able to legally marry me, we will, and I'll take Winterfell for myself!"

Sansa was so horrified she couldn't breathe.

"You can't!" She cried. "You can't! You can't! I won't let you touch me!"

"Hold her still," Joffrey commanded, and Sansa screamed and shouted as guards rushed forward and grabbed her arms back, forcing her so that she could not move but an inch, no matter how hard she wrenched.

Slowly, effortlessly, Joffrey strode forward as she wrenched, her teeth gritted and her breath coming out in desperate, furious spurts. Every step he took towards her, her breathing escalated until he was but an inch from her.

"Hold up her head," Joffrey said softly, and Sansa's head was forced up as she whimpered and struggled.

"No! Please don't-"

Worthless words. Joffrey laughed at her struggle as he slid his hand over her breast. Sansa closed her eyes and tried to picture Winterfell, but the trees and her family and their faces were lost to her as she felt his hand slide up her shirt.

"Stop!" She cried, tears leaking from her eyes. '_Oh gods please make him stop.'_

"What's this?" Joffrey breathed low in her ear. "I thought you said you wouldn't let me touch you."

Sansa closed her eyes and squeezed them shut. _Robb. _He had a nice face and thick, curly auburn hair that almost spilled into his eyes, eyes that always smiled when he did. _Jon_. She hated that she ever called him her half brother. She hated even more that she had ever called him a bastard. _Arya_. Her, wild, tangly hair and her messy hands and face. Always getting into trouble, but when she smiled, there was something wildly freeing about the way Arya smiled. _Bran_. Could climb anything. To hear him whoop from the tallest tree in Winterfell, while Sansa couldn't even climb up to the first branch... But he would never climb again. _Rickon_. Her baby brother, his face still retaining some of the youthful look of a little child. His round, loopy grin. '_Love was all we ever knew. What I wouldn't give to have them all back with me now.' _

Joffrey's hand slid lower.

"That's enough," the Hound rasped.

"It's enough when I say it's enough," Joffrey snapped, but Sansa felt his slimy hands remove themselves from her skin. She felt the air rush into her lungs in shutters. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. "Bathe yourself. Make yourself pretty, and then I'll be back."

Sansa felt the hands release her and she slid to the floor, utterly drained. She watched them all walk out, and then the Hound turned, and threw her a strange look. The door slammed closed behind him.

Sansa did not cry as she lifted herself to her feet. She did not cry when she scrubbed every particle of Joffrey's oozing touch off her skin. She did not cry when she stepped from the tub, raw and busied. Or when she dressed, putting on the pearls that Joffrey had given her. Not even then did a single tear fall down her face.

She put make-up over her bruised face, but it did not hide the cuts, and the purple of the bruises showed under the powder of the make-up. She stared at her face, long and hard, as if trying to find herself. But she was lost. The person staring back at her wasn't Sansa Stark. She was nobody.

"Stupid," Sansa heard herself say aloud. "STUPID!"

She threw the bottle of make-up across the room and it hit the wall, shattering, the bronze liquid slowly dripping down against the beautiful white and gold wall paper. The make-up was a facade, just like everything else. It tried to hide the ugliness that was really going on underneath. She had just been too stupid to see.

A little girl in love with the idea of being in love. She had loved a monster.

Sansa waited patiently, with her hands folded neatly on her knees. They came for her soon enough, and Joffrey had sighed, looking her up and down, and he had licked his lips, as if he liked what he saw, but when he looked upon her face, and the bruises there, he scowled.

"It's better," he snapped reluctantly, and he jerked his head, silently ordering Sansa to come along. She did as she was told.

She followed Joffrey out of her room and into the hallway that wrapped around the upper half of the building, looking down on the casino below them. It was empty now, and Sansa wondered what time it was. Probably some early hour. She had lost track of time. There was no time in the dark.

She followed Joffrey down the wide, curving stairs, her footsteps muffled by thick red carpet. The sun streamed in from the domed window above them. Sansa watched the dust swirl as she walked past, weaving in and out of impeccably kept gaming tables, plush chairs and perfectly arranged potted plants. The red carpet stretched out over the floor, and made a brilliant contrast against the white and cold columns that bordered the casino. When she looked towards the wall, the one that usually housed a huge, monstrous portrait of the Baratheon family and a head of a stag, she saw it curiously empty.

'_Robert Baratheon's not even cold in his grave and they're already taking him away,' _Sansa thought, staring at the blank wall as she passed. '_Soon it will be like he never even existed. Just like my father.'_

But she knew, staring ahead as Joffrey walked from the casino, took a sharp left and then strolled down the corridor towards the door that would lead them to the Pit, that her father would never be forgotten. He would always exist, in her heart, and in her family's. '_Where ever they are. If they are even still alive.'_

Robb was still alive, Sansa knew. That's why Joffrey had ordered her to be beaten earlier. Robb had rebelled against Joffrey and what he had done to their father. '_You can't bite a wolf without expecting to get one back.' _Now he was taking what used to be Baratheon territory, busting strongholds full of cash and taking out drug dealers that now worked for Joffrey. Slowly, carefully, he was moving South. '_Please let him come_,' Sansa thought as they walked down the stairs, the cold rising in her skin as they descended underground. '_Let him come and take me home.'_

Joffrey flicked on the lights, and the Pit was illuminated. Sansa had found it exciting when she first saw it, with the boxing ring and the stands where Robert and Cersei, beautiful perfect Cersei, had sat only a few nights before. It seemed like years. Maybe it had been. Sansa couldn't remember the way in which things had happened. Her head hurt.

They walked past the ring and the stands where she had cheered and cried and gripped her seat in perfect agony. She remembered feeling so dangerously glamorous, and that's what she had always wanted to be. Dangerously glamorous. '_Only there's nothing glamorous about danger.' _She knew that now too.

There was a door, and another set of stairs, and everything was starting to look scary now. The lights flickered. There was a sound of dripping. The cement walls felt cool and deadly against her fingers. She wondered if he was leading her to die.

Then he opened one more door.

The room was cold, so cold. The walls were some sort of metal, and Sansa could see herself reflected and distorted in them. The cold from the floor crept up her ankles as she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the florescent blue lights that hummed an eerie tune. But it was the ice boxes lined in the center of the room that turned her blood to ice.

"Don't-"

Smiling, Joffrey opened the first and Sansa took a great, shuttering breath, her throat closing so tight that she could not breathe. _Dad_.

His beard was dusted with frost and his skin was a strange blue-flesh color, but it was him. It was him, lying there, in the ice box, dead. There, but gone, the bullet hole in his head cracked with iced blood.

"Look at him," Joffrey commanded when she wrenched her head away. "Look at him! Look at all of them!"

Jory was there too, along with the rest of her fathers men. She had known them, ever since she was a little girl. They had protected him to the very end, until there was nothing to be done.

"There aren't any monsters, Sansa girl," Jory had told her once when she was very small, reaching out a ruffling her hair.

But the monsters had gotten him in the end.

"No please-"

Joffrey grabbed her face and forced it to look at Ned's shrunken body, cold and unmoving. The more Sansa stared, the more it blurred into nothing, her eyes unfocused and dazed. That's when she realized that she could look at him without seeing him.

"How much longer must I look?" She asked dully after five minutes. Joffrey seemed put out.

"As long as I say!" He snapped like a disappointed child.

"Whatever pleases you," Sansa said, staring without seeing.

"Look long and hard," Joffrey said, and his voice sounded like he was trying very hard to scare her. "Because next it'll be your brother's body in that ice box. How do you like the sound of that? I'll give you your brother's body to look at as long as it pleases me."

"Or maybe he'll give me yours."

Sansa had no idea where it had come from, but the words had left her mouth, and there was no taking them back. She wrenched from Joffrey's grasp and glared at him. Straight into his green-blue eyes. She did not back down.

She was back handed with such force that she stumbled backwards, and then she felt a fist hit her in the mouth, a fist covered with rings that ripped at her flesh and caused blood to rush into her mouth. Sansa gripped the side of the ice box for support, blood running down her chin in droves.

"You never learn, do you?" Joffrey said, tisking. "You Starks are all the same. Stupid and honorable. Well, where's your honor now Stark? Hmm?"

Sansa looked up at him, shaking. '_Gone,' _she thought. '_Because I'm waiting. I'll wait forever if I have to, but one day, when I get the chance, I will kill you, and I won't even think about my honor then._


	5. Youth

**Gendry**

** '**_Who was she?'_

Gendry felt her wrench away from him, and his mind spun in confusion, exploding with a million questions because 'Arry' was certainly no _boy_. So why was a little girl dressed up as a boy? And why had Yoren lied to him? And why did she look so utterly terrified of him?

Her eyes were gray and round, and Gendry realized that there was something about her. Something familiar. '_Should I know her?' _She seemed to know him. Or maybe she was just frightened? It wasn't uncommon for people to be frightened of him. Gendry had walked down the streets more than once and had girls button their coats tight or people lock their cars. He was huge for his age, all muscle, and the fact that he couldn't afford to buy decent clothes didn't help. The only jacket he had was leather, and for some reason that made him a criminal.

He smiled at the girl, trying to let her know that it was fine, that he was not a threat, but that seemed to back it worse. She gasped and stumbled backwards, looking horrified.

"Stay away from me!" She cried, and Gendry blinked, astounded.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Just fuck off!" She shouted, and then she bolted, disappearing into the crowd.

"Jumpy little twat that one," one of the kids that had been terrorizing her said. The idiot with the green hands. "But I liked the look of that blade."

"We could pinch it," the fat kid said. "You've pinched loads of stuff before."

"Oh yeah," the other boy said cockily. "I even robbed me a bank."

"Not successfully," Gendry snapped, snorting with laughter as he took a look at the boys dyed hands. "The dye bag get you, kid? It must have been pretty easy to find you. Yoren probably didn't even have to look. I can see your hands for a mile."

The kid with the green hands face went beet red.

"You just leave him alone, all right?" Gendry demanded, pointing after where the girl had disappeared.

"What's it to you, Bull?" The boy said, crossing his arms over his chest. Gendry raised his eyebrows and then sighed. The damn helmet. He might have guessed.

If there was one thing he was bitterly regretting leaving behind, it was his motorcycle. It had been like his child. He had molded it from scrapings, nurtured it, worked with it, and it had turned out to be so fine. He had even fashioned the handle bars to look like bull horns, just for fun. And for added effect, he had made a bull sticker to go on his helmet. For some reason, he just couldn't leave the damn helmet behind.

"Making nicknames are we?" Gendry asked, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Mine's Hot Pie," the fat kid said proudly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Gendry said drily. "And what's yours? Greenhands?"

The blonde kid scowled.

"The short kid's name is Lumpyhead," he said with a leer, as if daring Gendry to challenge it. Gendry raised his eyebrows.

"Give him nicknames all you like," he said, "but if I see you fucking around with him, you better bet I'll be there."

"Oh yeah, and what are you going to do?" Greenhands said smugly. '_This kid's the stupidest person I've ever met.'_

"I'll beat your ass," Gendry said darkly. "And I'll wipe that smug little smirk off your face."

He didn't have to. The smirk slid off of Greenhands face faster than melting butter on toast. '_That's right. Look terrified, you little shit.'_

"Why do you care so much about him anyway?" Hot Pie demanded suspiciously. "Are you in love with him or something?"

"Ask me that again, kid, and I'll make you squeal so loud, your mum will hear it all the way back in her pig pen," Gendry snarled, and with that he turned and left.

"Don't you say that about my mother!" Hot Pie yelled after him, but Gendry ignored him completely. Let him whine. He had more important matters to attend to, like _why_ Arry was not an orphan boy, but a girl.

He found Yoren by the bus, dealing with some sort of situation. There was a squad car, with bars in the windows, that apparently was holding three other guys going to the wall. They must have been scary as shit, because Gendry had gotten an eye full of some of the guys that were not in the squad car, and they were hardly someone anyone would take their daughter out to dinner with. The Night's Watch was supposed to be a police force, but Gendry thought it was a sad day when a police force took in rapists and thugs.

"What do you want?" Yoren grumbled, looking up from his list of names.

"What the fuck's going on?" Gendry demanded in a low hiss so that no one would hear them. The girl stood a few paces off, kicking dirt with her toe.

"What do you mean?" Yoren snapped. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific-"

"Why the fuck is Arry the orphan boy a girl?" Gendry snarled, cutting across Yoren and right to the chase. Yoren didn't look surprised. He merely went back to his list.

"I thought I told you not to ask questions," Yoren said.

"Yeah, well sorry to bother you, but I think this is a pretty important turn of events," Gendry seethed through gritted teeth. Yoren's head snapped up and he glared.

"Listen _boy_," he snarled so fiercely Gendry stumbled backwards, "there are things that are going on that you can't begin to know about. Things that are so out of your ball park that you couldn't even try to play."

"I don't know if you know this," Gendry said in a low voice, "but I wasn't kidding when I said I was done with you being so fucking mysterious. What have you gotten me into?"

"The less you know, the safer you are," Yoren said, and Gendry blinked in surprise to see how serious he was. "Do yourself a favor. If you want to stay alive, don't ask questions."

Gendry took a few steps back, shocked.

"You said this was going to be an easy job-"

"It is easy," Yoren snapped. "If you keep your damned, stubborn mouth shut."

"I didn't have a choice," Gendry growled, feeling rage bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. "I never asked-"

"ENOUGH!" Yoren roared so loud that everyone jumped and the entire group went silent, staring at them. Gendry shot a look at the girl and saw that she was staring at him, frightened... And wary. '_Where do I know her from?'_

"All right you sorry sons of whores!" Yoren shouted. "It's time for role call and then our little road trip can begin! Gendry Waters!"

"Yoren you know I'm here-"

"DO WE HAVE A GENDRY WATERS?"

"PRESENT!" Gendry shouted. "I'm fucking present all right?"

"And deaf, apparently," Yoren said, drawing a few chuckles from the crowd. Gendry felt his face flush with humiliation. "Arry?"

"Here," the girl said sullenly, her head bent.

"Lumpyhead," Greenhands called out, and Hot Pie sniggered. They were so lame it almost hurt.

"Well don't just stand there waiting for the grass to grow!" Yoren barked. "Get in the bus!"

Scowling, Gendry spit on the ground and then stalked off to the bus, the girl in toe. He had never been more furious in his life. What was Yoren playing at? Lying about who the girl was, and saying she was a boy? And why wouldn't he tell Gendry the lie? Yoren had gone to a lot of trouble to get Gendry to step on that bus, but why? What the fuck was going on?

The girl took a seat towards the back, so Gendry took one a row back and across the aisle. That way he could watch her, but she couldn't watch him without being obvious. It made his skin crawl a bit, to be _watching_ her. But that was what he was supposed to be doing, right? Making sure she was okay?

Soon the bus filled up with all sorts of lowlifes. Greenhands and Hot Pie took the seat right behind her, and Gendry had a bad feeling that they were going to cause some trouble. This made him feel like he was going from stalker to babysitter. Did Yoren hire him just to ward off bullies? _"There's big money in this." _He had said. So that couldn't be it.

Maybe Yoren didn't want her to get raped. There were plenty rapists on the bus. One was even sitting behind him and it was making his skin crawl. If this was Yoren's fear, it was a pretty valid one. She was small, tiny, and now that Gendry looked at her... she wasn't a little kid at all. Her face was older, serious. She had to be about fifteen or fourteen, sixteen if he was really stretching it. If one of those perverts caught even a whiff of her, they'd take full advantage. Gendry vowed he wouldn't let that happen.

The bus ride was quiet for him. He popped in his music and turned it on low, his helmet sitting next to him on the seat. It was a stupid thing to bring, but it was here now, and he was strangely glad of it. He watched the girl, who also listened to her iPod and stared out the window, detached and apparently lost in thought. Ever so often she'd turn to look at him, and then he'd turn away and pretend to be looking out the window as well.

It was after three when the ruckus started. After a thoroughly disgusting lunch at a roadside grill, they had all piled back in the bus, taking their old seats. The perverts in the back of the bus seemed to be doing something, probably drugs, and instead of being quiet like they had all morning, they began to laugh loudly and swap stories Gendry would rather not hear. It was getting to the girl, he could tell. She got out her knife again and wrung her hands around it, the blade still tucked away.

"Oooh look!" Hot Pie said, getting up and leaning over her seat. "Lumpyhead's got out his knife again."

"Let's have it," Greenhands said, catching on and getting up as well, making to swipe the blade.

"Leave off!" The girl snarled, wrenching away. "Leave me alone."

"Aww we've made Lumpyface sad," Hot pie crooned, and Gendry saw something flash across the girl's face. '_Trouble_,' he thought.

"Lumpyhead," Greenhands corrected.

"Give it here!" Hot Pie snapped, growing impatient. He slammed the girl's head down and tried to grab the blade. He wrenched it away from her.

A mistake.

Before Gendry could even come to her rescue, the girl was leaping up, screaming, and dove over the seat, clamping her hands around Hot Pie's throat. He screamed as well as they toppled into the aisle, the girl's fingers clenched tight. He started gurgling and screaming, thrashing about, and she released his throat, only to punch him in the face.

"Behind you!" Gendry shouted, leaping to his feet as well as Greenhands leapt down on top of her. She whirled around just in time and punched Greenhands in the face as well. Gendry dashed forward and grabbed Greenhands around the middle and yanked him back as the girl turned back to Hot Pie and began to beat him as he screamed.

"GIVE. IT. BACK!" She roared, kneeing him in the balls. There was a sickening crunch as Hot Pie shrieked in pain.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Yoren shouted from his place at the front window. "STOP THAT!"

He threw a murderous look at Gendry, who was trying his best to pull the girl off of Hot Pie and keep Greenhands at bay at the same time. It was proving impossible as Greenhands kept running for her, shouting all sorts of stupid threats. Having enough, Gendry turned around and punched him, knocking him out.

"Take it!" Hot Pie was crying. "I don't want it! Take it! Take it!"

But by now it almost looked like the girl had forgotten her knife. She was beating Hot Pie wildly, screaming, and when Gendry finally pulled her off him, kicking and shouting, he saw, to his shock, tears running down her face.

The bus pulled to a screeching halt and Yoren wrenched up, marching down the aisle and grabbing the girl from Gendry. He threw Gendry a thoroughly dissatisfied look before marching the girl outside, turning and saying, "see to the fat kid."

Hot Pie was whimpering.

"I thought I told you to leave him alone," Gendry said, heaving him to his feet.

"I will," Hot Pie whimpered, tears of his own running down his face. "I'll never insult him again I swear!"

"Good to know," Gendry said, helping him so that he could lie on one of the seats. "Let that be a lesson."

He straightened up to see Yoren and the girl arguing outside the bus. Yoren slapped her across the face and she glared at him, but she did not attack him like she did Hot Pie, and when she got back on the bus, the tears were gone.

'_Who are you?' _Gendry thought again. '_Who __**are**__ you?'_

**Love to hear thoughts**


	6. Run

**Arya**

** '**_Who was he?'_

"Him?" Yoren had grunted when she asked. "Nobody. What are you worried about him for?"

"He knows me," Arya insisted in a low voice. "I saw him, a few nights ago. He was at Robert Baratheon's boxing match. Yoren, he _knows_ me."

Yoren gave her a long look.

"Never you mind about him," he said gruffly. "Might be he knows you, might be he doesn't. Besides, you look different now. Don't look like some dolled up mob daughter now, do you?"

"I never looked like that!" Arya had protested, but she had, that night when she had watched him. Perhaps he didn't recognize her. She chewed her lip and threw a look back over at him where he argued with the two idiots that had been bothering her. Perhaps... But it seemed unlikely.

He was watching her, she knew. He was bad at it too, she found out. Every time she looked at him, he would look intently out the window. But why was he watching her? What was he doing here? His presence set her teeth on edge. She needed to be careful. She didn't care what Yoren said, if she thought he was a threat, she'd have to settle things with Needle. If she could. He was huge and she was tiny. He could probably snap her arm like a twig.

The thought did not console her.

But he seemed to be... Helping her... Almost. It was strange. When she attacked the fat kid, Hot Pie they called him, the boy with the black hair, the Bull, had shouted for her to look out. He had also punched Greenhands so hard he had been knocked out cold. Was he trying to help her? But why would he be trying to help her?

Yoren knew, she was certain. But would he tell her? No.

"You bloody idiot!" He had shouted at her after he marched her off the bus. "I thought I told you to lay low!"

"They were bothering me," she said with a shrug. She got a slap for that. Her face still hurt and was probably bruised. Damn Yoren. Why did he have to be so fucking mysterious? She walked back onto the bus sullenly, but she did not cause any more trouble. If Yoren wanted her to lay low, then damn it she would.

It was their third day on the road, and still the Bull watched her. He even tried to talk to her once or twice, but she didn't answer him. She stayed close to Yoren, just in case. She was not about to trust anyone, especially not someone as suspicious as he was. He was probably a rapist like so many others on the bus.

Hot Pie was still whimpering, the pussy. He stayed as far away from her as possible.

"He's scared of you," the Bull had told her, but Arya bluntly ignored him. After that he left her alone.

He was alone too, she realized. He kept to himself, often times carrying around the helmet with the bull sticker on it. He was a mechanic, not a rapist, she learned. A mechanic who had a taste for illegal fighting, but she dared not say anything. She should not know that part about his life, and she was not about to go advertising it. After her little brawl with Hot Pie, she was determined not to draw any attention to her.

The sun was starting to go down when Yoren pulled the bus into the parking lot of a very run down looking hostel. _Strictly male only, _the sign read. Arya couldn't help but grin. There was always a certain something about breaking rules that she liked.

They all filed out of the bus and Arya sighed, content. It would be nice, to finally sleep in a bed instead of a tent or the seat of the bus. Her back ached along with her neck and she smelled like an old sweaty sock. She couldn't wait for a bath, or to take the thick binding off her breasts. Even if she didn't have any, what was being constrained certainly felt constrained. She just wanted a nice, hot shower where she could wash off and be a girl for three minutes.

"Communal showers," Yoren barked to the group, giving Arya a pointed look and she groaned inwardly. No showers for her.

She followed Yoren inside, and watched as the Bull, Greenhands and Hot Pie went off to the showers along with the rest of the men. That left her with Yoren, who went to the sitting room of the hostel and asked for a drink. He got her one as well and they sat down along with the other men, young and old who were crowded around a broken-down radio and television with a flickering screen.

"More violence north," an old man snorted, taking a swig of his sherry. "Does it ever stop?"

"I hear that Robb Stark has some sort of rabid dog with him," a younger man said, eyes wide.

_It's a husky you idiot. And it's not rabid either._

Arya took a long swig of her drink. Flat beer. She made a face.

"I wish they would just leave it alone," another old man said. "Starks, Baratheons, Lannisters, the lot of them. Enough violence. Haven't we all suffered enough?"

"They wouldn't stop, not when it pads their wallets so much," another man said with a grunt. "Robb Stark's so rich, he shits money."

Disgusting or not, Arya took huge gulps of her drink to avoid saying anything.

"I heard the dog ripped out a babies throat-"

"That's a lie."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"What did you just say?" the old man demanded, glaring at Arya through thick eyebrows. She glared back.

"I said: that's a lie," she said in a low, steady voice. "Robb Stark would never allow that to happen. He's a good person."

"Know him personally, do you?" the old man snorted, chuckling.

"Oh yeah, has dinner with his family every night," Yoren cut in sharply, his glare murderous. _I'm really in trouble now. _"Why don't you shut your filthy, lying mouth boy? No one wants to hear what you have to say."

Arya stood abruptly, having had enough. She slammed her drink down and whirled on her heel, stalking out of the sitting room and into the growing dark. It was nippy outside, but there was a certain humidity in the air. She sighed, feeling strangled. She picked up a stick and began hacking at the air with it.

"Boy, lovely boy."

Arya jumped and whirled around to see that they had left the window the squad car slightly cracked, though the bars were still there. Warily, she approached the car to see a man looking at her. Older, in his thirties perhaps, but good looking with a shock of white in his hair.

"Could a lovely boy get a man a drink?" He asked in a broken accent. "A man has a thirst."

"Oi you little shit! Get us some beer!" A voice roared from within the car.

"No," Arya said with a snap. "Even if you asked nicely I wouldn't. You wouldn't be able to drink it with the bars and all."

"My apologies," the man with the accent said. "A man cannot chose his companions. A boy will forgive him."

Arya raised an eyebrow.

"Get us beer or I'll shove that stick up your ass and fuck you with it!" The other voice roared again, and then an ugly face was replacing the man with the accent, his hands gripping on the edge of the window.

In a fit of madness, Arya reached out and slammed her stick against the ugly man's fingers. He howled and swore, and she hit him again.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" The ugly faced man screamed.

"What's going on here?"

Arya spun around to see the Bull standing behind her, his face crumpled in a curious expression. His hair was wet and hanging in his eyes, and his face freshly shaven. He looked a lot less imposing in the dark, strangely.

"Yoren said not to talk to this lot," he said, frowning.

"I don't care what Yoren says," Arya snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "They don't scare me!"

"Then you're stupid," the Bull said with a bit of a chuckle. "They scare me."

He jerked his head towards the hostel and Arya followed him reluctantly for a few feet before she stopped. He stopped too and turned around, his look questioning.

"You're watching me," Arya said. It was an accusation, not a question.

The Bull looked stupid, stunned, his mouth hanging open in a very unattractive gape. She couldn't help but sneer.

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Yes you do," Arya cut across him. "Why? Why are you watching me?"

He looked like he was going to reply, but then something else passed over his face. Confusion... And almost fear. He was looking up the road behind her.

"Lannisters," he said with a frown, and Arya whipped around, her heart seizing in her chest. There was no denying the lion on the car that was coming up the road. The headlights were glaring right in her face...

"Quick!" She hissed, grabbing him by the hand and yanking him towards some thick bushes.

"What are you doing?" He asked as she pulled him behind the bushes with her and out of sight. They sat crouched, Arya's heart pounding in her chest.

"Shut up!" She snarled, and he complied.

The car pulled up, agonizingly slowly, and then stopped. The lights did not turn off. Arya held her breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Unconsciously she squeezed the Bull's fingers, the pounding of her heart flooding in her ears. She only realized that she was still holding his hand when he squeezed her fingers back.

"What's going on?" His voice whispered in her ear. He smelled like soap and aftershave. "Why do the Lannisters scare you?"

_"NOOOOO!" It was as though Sansa's shriek of pain and horror was ripped from Arya's lips. Arya would have screamed. She would have. In fact she was screaming. The shrieks in her head were enough to turn her deaf._

_ "NO PLEASE!" Sansa screamed, and someone ran forward to restrain her as she rushed towards Joffrey, tears running down her face already. "YOU SAID! YOU PROMISED! PLEASE!"_

_ Joffrey ignored her._

_ "I believe," he said, and his voice sounded cold and... Smug. "That an executioner is in order. Illyn, if you would be so good."_

She turned to look at the Bull, and for a second, a split second, she wondered what it would like to tell him.

_His blood spilled like rain, and when I saw his dead face... He wasn't even my father any more. Death had taken everything from him._

"Shut up," she said, turning back to the car, which was turning off. The doors were opening...

Yoren stepped out of the hostel, his hand on the belt of his pants. Behind him trailed the newly clean members of the Night's Watch. Hot Pie and Greenhands were even there too, looking wary like the rest of the crowd. A man in a white suit stepped forward.

"What's your business here?" Yoren demanded.

"Maybe I'm looking for a place to rest, same as you," the man in the white suit said, and Arya could tell he was trying to be smart. He was failing miserably.

"Not a Lannister man," Yoren snapped. "You lot would never rest in a place like this. You'd rather shag your brothers. Oh wait..."

Laughter rippled from the men and the man in the white suit turned beat red.

"I could kill you for saying that," he snarled, and the smirk was wiped clean off his face. Arya dug her fingers into the Bull's hand.

"You could, but you won't," Yoren sighed, not threatened in the least. "I'm the only one that could help you finding what you want. What is it that you want again? You seem to have neglected to tell me."

More laughter. Arya's heart pounded so hard it would surely break. '_Me_,' she thought, '_they want me. Oh gods.'_

The Lannister man looked angry.

"We're looking for a boy," he spat. "A young man, to be exact."

"Sorry," Yoren said with a very unsympathetic shrug. "I couldn't give two shits as to what you want. These men are member's of the Night's Watch now. You can't touch them."

The Lannister man reached in his pocket and pulled something out. A knife.

"I'm sorry," he said, flicking out the blade, "but when I ask a question, I expect to get some answers."

"And I'm sorry," Yoren said, reaching behind his back and pulling out a gun so fast that Arya might have missed it if she blinked, "but _this_ is my answer."

He pointed the gun straight at the man's crotch and grinned.

"Now," Yoren said, taking a step forward, "I know you don't know me, and I don't know you, but, if I were you, I'd believe me when I say I'm a good shot. I could shoot off your balls in one clean shot, and I'd do it too, if you continue to be an annoying little shit. So, my advice is to turn around and get back in your nice little car, and you can tell Cersei Lannister to go fuck herself because what she's looking for isn't here. Got that? Or do I have to repeat myself?"

There was a huge swelling silence. Arya held her breath...

"Fine," the man snarled, apparently not about to lose his prized testicles. "But you can bet that I'll be back old man, and I won't be alone next time."

"Just get back in the fucking car, no one cares about your threats," Yoren snapped, sounding bored. The man seethed.

"I'm looking for a boy named Gendry!" He shouted at the crowd. "Whoever turns him in will be richer than you've ever fucking imagined!"

With that he high tailed his way back to the car and speed off, tires screeching when Yoren shot a few bullets at the road behind him. He was gone in a matter of seconds, but his words hung in the air like they were holding their breath...

This time, it was the Bull that gripped Arya's fingers. Because it wasn't Arya they were looking for... It was him. Gendry Waters.

'_Who are you?'_ She wondered.

**Apologies for how canon this chapter is. The thing about this story, I think, is that you think you know what's going to happen, and you'll be reading it and be thinking 'oh this is so predictable, I know where this is going.' Trust me, you don't. ;)**


	7. Rifles

**Gendry**

"I would like to know what the fuck is going on," Gendry had demanded after the Lannister man had driven away.

"And I would like you to stop asking so many fucking questions," Yoren had snarled back. "I told you a million times: the less you know, the better."

Well that was great, because he didn't know anything. He didn't know why he was on that bus. He didn't know what he was supposed to be doing on that bus. He didn't know why the Lannisters, of all people, wanted him (funnily enough, he wasn't sure how much he really wanted to know that one). He didn't know who the girl was, or how they were connected, or why he should be looking out for her. What he did know, however, was that Yoren was a cunt. A cunt that had gotten him into a load of trouble.

He should have never, _ever_ taken this job. He should have never taken any job to begin with. If he hadn't been so stupid, so reckless, he would be sitting comfortably at home, working on some beautiful car, maybe even dabbling in metal works from time to time, as he liked to do. He would be safe, maybe not fully happy, but safe, and he would know what was what, and what was going on. There wouldn't be so many damn questions and there wouldn't be Lannisters out searching for him. There wouldn't be that mysterious girl either.

Gendry had decided straight out that they needed to talk. Chances were, if Yoren was going to clam up, she might not. Maybe she had the answers he so desperately craved. She at least knew who she was. He hoped. The fact that Cersei Lannister was looking for him made Gendry question who _he_ was. What could Cersei Lannister possibly want from him?

They might have needed to talk, but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen either. Yoren, as if reading his mind, had kept her close to him, ordering her to sit in the seat directly behind him as he drove and effectively making it impossible for Gendry to talk to her. He had thought he might catch her when they stopped... But they didn't stop.

After the Lannister was out of sight, Yoren had put his gun back in his pants and turned around to face the crowd.

"All right you lot!" He had roared. "EVERYONE! BACK IN THE BUS! NOW!"

With that, he grabbed the girl by the scruff of her shirt and she had been by him ever since. Two days now, and no stopping. Well... They had stopped to use the restroom and for a quick snack, but even then it was so fast Gendry could hardly catch his breath, and then they were being shoved back on the bus again, and the girl was dragged along by Yoren, and Gendry still hadn't had a chance to talk to her.

He was beginning to think that he'd never get the chance, because it looked like Yoren was never going to stop, when finally, _finally_, Yoren pulled the bus into an empty and overgrown lot near an abandoned warehouse.

"All right," he had said, yawning. "I think it's time for a rest, don't you? We'll stay here the night, and then we'll get back on the road bright and early in the morning."

Exhausted, they all trooped off the bus, utterly spent. The sun was fading over the flat expanse of land, and Gendry sighed as a breeze rippled across the world and collided with him, ruffling his hair and washing away the constrained feeling he always got when being inside too long. With the breeze came a lonely feeling and something else... A certain dread almost, but he had no idea why he would feel any dread. Maybe it was the encounter with the Lannister crony. If the girl hadn't pulled him into the bushes...

"Hurry up!" Yoren barked, and Gendry realized that he was the only one waiting, staring off into the horizon while the other men were trying to open the huge wooden doors. Sighing, he hiked his bag over his shoulder and went to help them.

The warehouse, when they finally got the doors open, looked like it had been abandoned for some time. Ivy had grown up the metal walls, and grass was cracking through the cement of the floor. There was something eerie about the place, and when the wind blew, it howled and whined, whistling through the building and upsetting little clouds of dust.

Gendry made his bed in a far secluded corner and then, in need of some time alone, he went out to take a piss.

As he relieved himself, he tried to think of a way he could get the girl alone so that he could talk to her. She must know something, she _must_. But how to get her alone? How when Yoren watched over her like some great over grown vulture?

"What do the Lannisters want with you?"

Gendry let out a roar of surprise and nearly sent piss flying everywhere. He nearly whipped around too, and then realized that that would be a bad idea, and instead settled for turning the other way and quickly zipping up.

"Didn't your mother tell you it was rude to sneak up on people?" He grumbled. "Jesus, you nearly made me-"

"Piss your pants?" She supplied, and when he turned to face her, it looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"I suppose you think you're clever," he snapped, annoyed at having been scared by a scrawny little girl.

"I know I'm clever," she corrected him, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you're stupid. I asked you a question. What do the Lannisters want with you?"

Gendry glared at her. She really was very annoying. Now that her hood was off, he could see that her hair had been cut, a botched job because it stuck up in the back and flopped forward in the front, nearly blocking out her large gray eyes. Eyes that were expecting an answer.

"I could ask you the same question," Gendry said. "You thought they were after you, why?"

This displeased her.

"I wanted an answer, not another question," she said in a threatening voice. "Now answer me."

Gendry sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I will. The answer is I don't know."

"Liar," she said at once and he chuckled, in spite of himself. She scowled.

"I'm not lying," Gendry said honestly. "I've never had anything to do with the Lannisters. I try to stay out of the whole mob scene."

"Liar."

This one surprised him. Gendry blinked, and he saw a quick flash of terror dart across her face. '_How does she know that? How does she know I'm lying?'_ Gendry stared at her, searching. There was something he was missing here, he knew. Something familiar...

"How do you know that?" He demanded. She bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable. "You thought they were after you at first. Why?"

She took a step back.

"I dunno," she said with a shrug, a very bad lie. "I knew they were from the mob, I thought maybe they'd hurt me."

"Oh is that so?" Gendry said sarcastically. "Brilliant logic."

"It's not like you're being honest either!" She shot back defensively.

"Actually I am being honest," Gendry corrected her. "You're just choosing not to believe me."

"You know what? Whatever," she snapped. "I didn't even come out here to talk to you anyway."

"Oh really? What are you here for then? To seduce me?" Gendry asked sardonically, crossing his own arms over his chest. Her eyes widened.

"I am NOT trying to seduce you!" She shouted at once. "Besides, I'm a young boy-"

"No you're not," Gendry said, grinning. He was enjoying the look of frantic terror on her usually controlled face. "My mother warned me against cougars, but she never warned me against your type. What kind of jungle cat do they call young girls who go after older men? Pumas?"

"I am not a girl!" The girl shouted.

"All right," Gendry said, trying not to laugh. "Go on and take your cock out. Take a piss."

"I don't need to take a piss," she said at once. "I could if I wanted to!"

"I'm sure you could," Gendry said very sincerely. "But it wouldn't be a cock you'd be pissing out of."

She looked furious. At him and with herself.

"Come on," Gendry said, "the game's up. I know, you know. Just admit it."

"If you tell anyone I'll take my knife-"

"And blah blah blah," Gendry snapped, waving her off. "Who are you? You're not Arry the orphan boy, so who are you?"

"I'm not telling you," the girl said flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you, that's why!"

It was a good point, but if Gendry admitted that... Well then she would have won, wouldn't she? Somehow he didn't like the idea of her winning.

"Look," he said, gentler this time. "I'm not some sort of pervert, all right? Yoren hired me."

"Yoren _hired _you?" She asked, her face jumping into a frown.

"To protect you," Gendry explained. Her frown turned into a scowl.

"I don't need protecting!" She cried at once. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself!"

Gendry looked her up and down. She was tiny, scrawny, skinny little thing and a terrible liar. She had the knife, but that was about it. Well... No... She had attacked Hot Pie with unexpected strength and fury, but what about a Lannister thug? Gendry had a hard time believing she'd be able to take down a man whose arm was the size of her head.

"Right," he said, trying not to smirk.

There was a pause, and then she took a deep breath.

"No one can know," she said.

"They won't," Gendry vowed. "Not from me I swear."

She chewed her lip and looked down at her scruffy shoes. Blue high tops.

"My name's not Arry..." she said slowly. "It's... Arya... Arya Stark."

Gendry blinked. Then he gasped.

"Stark... Oh my god you're... You're... Christ!" He gasped, raking his fingers through his hair. "Your Dad... Your Dad... He was killed, wasn't he? I mean they never said... There's been no body but... But..."

She didn't look at him.

"They killed him," she said softly, staring off at the setting sun and chewing her lip, more violently now.

"Lannisters?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yes."

"Why?" Gendry demanded.

"I... I don't know," she said haltingly, as though it pained her to even talk. "He went out the day before... And then he came back, and they said Robert had died in a drunk driving accident, and... Something happened, besides Robert's death. Something to do with where he went that day."

"I know where he went that day," Gendry said, a realization snapping in his head. She looked up, shocked. "He went to see me."

"You met my Dad?" There was something so heartbreakingly hopeful in the way she asked the question that Gendry felt a sharp pain in his chest for her. He gave her a genuine smile, the first real smile he'd smiled in a long time.

"Yeah," he said softly, "I did. He was a great guy. Really nice."

She smiled, a big, warm smile, and then she seemed to catch herself, and the smile slid off her face in quivers. She blinked rapidly, taking a shuttering breath and turned away again, her expression twisted and torn.

"What did he want?" Gone was the hope, replaced by a hollow woodenness.

"I dunno," Gendry said honestly. "He wanted to ask me questions, I guess."

"What kind of questions?"

"He asked about Jon Arryn, you know, the guy who was Robert's right hand man before your Dad?" Gendry told her.

"I know who Jon Arryn was!" She snapped like a little child. How old was she anyway? Gendry looked her up and down again, but with all the bulky clothing it was hard to tell. Her face was young but her eyes were old.

"My bad, touchy," Gendry said, putting his hands up as if to surrender. She scowled further.

"What would either of them want with you?" She asked rudely.

"Beats me," Gendry said with a shrug. "But I wished they had left me alone. Now I'm stuck with you, and there are Lannister's breathing down my neck-"

"You are _not_ stuck with me," Arya cut across him quickly. "Yoren's taking me back to Winterfell and there's no way in hell _you're_ staying with me."

"Fine by me," Gendry snapped back. "I never wanted to go there anyway."

They glared at each other.

And then it hit Gendry. She was _Arya Stark. _Her father had been Ned Stark, and her brother was Robb Stark. The same Robb Stark who was kicking the ass of Lannister thugs up North. The one who had killed more men than Gendry could spit at. A man of the mob. She was a daughter of the mob too.

"Oh my god," Gendry gasped. "You're... You're a Stark..."

"Wow," Arya said, "you're just catching that now? You're stupider than you look."

"You're Dad... You're brother..." Suddenly visions of Robb Stark crashing through the doors of the warehouse with a gigantic machine gun screaming, _"YOU MENTIONED COCKS IN FRONT OF MY SISTER?" _were parading through his mind. "All that about cocks... I shouldn't have said..."

"Don't be an idiot," Arya snapped, rolling her eyes. "As if I haven't heard the word 'cock' before."

"And I've been pissing in front of you and everything!" He cried, horrified.

"Nothing I haven't seen before."

Gendry's eyes popped open in shock.

"How old _are_ you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. She didn't look nearly old enough for _that_.

"Sixteen," she snapped defensively. "Seventeen in three days."

"But you look so little," Gendry sputtered.

This seemed to piss her off a great deal.

"Well I'm not," she said venomously, "and you better keep pissing in front of me or people will notice."

"I should be calling you Ms. Stark-"

"Don't be a fucking idiot," Arya cut across him, looking disgusted.

"Or maybe your majesty?" Gendry offered cynically. "Or princess. Princess sounds better."

"I'm not a fucking princess!"

"Then a lady?" Gendry said, testing it out and liking the taste. "I could call you milady."

"DO _NOT_ CALL ME MILADY!" Arya roared.

"As milady commands," Gendry said, pretending to bow. She slammed her fists in his chest and sent him to the ground with a loud _thump_.

"You piss off, all right?" She demanded before spinning on her heel and storming off, fists clenched.

"That wasn't very lady-like!" Gendry called after her.

She stuck her middle finger in the air.

Oh yes, she was definitely a lady. A proper little princess indeed. Gendry couldn't help but laugh as he clamored to her feet. She might be small and annoying and a pain in the ass, but he sort of liked her all the same. It was rare to meet a girl that wasn't about to take shit from anyone. It was rare to meet anyone like that, really.

Flicking away the bit of gravel that had stuck to his palms, Gendry followed Arya back inside. Yoren was handing out sandwiches for dinner, and most of the people had congregated in the middle to sleep together for body heat. He couldn't help but grin when he saw that Arya was eating her sandwich next to his stuff.

He sat next to her.

"If you call me milady, or talk at all, I'll kick you in the balls," she said through a mouthful of sandwich. Gendry shrugged. He wasn't in the mood for talking anyway.

Darkness fell, and it was cold in the warehouse. Gendry pulled a few of his jackets out of his duffle bag and gave one to Arya, who took it without so much as a nod or a thank you. The wind howled eerily and Gendry shivered, despite the fact that he was bathed in jackets from chin to foot.

His body was exhausted and cold and uncomfortable, but for some reason Gendry didn't feel tired. Even as snores started to join in with the wind's eerie whistling, he could not bring himself to fall asleep. There was this feeling... An unsettling feeling. He couldn't help but think that something bad was about to happen.

Gendry felt something heavy rest against his shoulder and he turned to see that Arya's head had fallen on him as she had drifted off to sleep. He made a mental note to tease her about it later. He would definitely be mentioning the cougar thing again. For now, however, he laid his head against hers and closed his eyes and tried to let sleep come.

When he awoke again, she was gone.

It was pitch black in the warehouse and cold. So very cold.

Something was about to happen. He could feel it. Without thinking, Gendry held his breath...

_BANG!_

The sound of the shot exploded in the warehouse and Gendry leapt to his feet in a panic. Frantic shouts echoed from his companions, confusion cluttering around as everyone began to wake.

_BANG!_

Suddenly Arya was there, yanking him to his feet.

"Get up!" She was shouting. "GET UP!"

"What's going on?" Gendry demanded, still a bit dazed. "What the fuck's going on?"

"They've come for you."

_BANG!_

Gendry felt his mouth go dry as ash. His heart began to pound in his ears and he felt his stomach twist, adrenaline rushing under his skin. Or was that fear?

"Do you have a gun?" Arya shouted.

"Yes," Gendry said, reaching into his pants and pulling it out. She looked at it and nodded, as if giving him her stamp of approval.

"Good," she said, biting her lip. "You're going to need it."

_BANG!_

They both jumped and looked towards the door.

"How much time have we got before they break through that door?" Gendry asked Arya as she pulled out her knife.

"None."

_BANG!_

The doors crashed open and freezing cold air rushed in, crackling across Gendry's face and chilling him to the bone. There was a moments pause...

Then they opened fire.

There was a surge of shadows, and all of a sudden, the Night's Watch was fighting back. Gendry and Arya as well. Arya racing forward first, screaming, and then Gendry following close behind her, his gun clenched firmly in his hand.

He used the butt of it to slam against the head of a Lannister thug and then reeled back and punched him in the face. He barely dodged a bullet before he was attacked by another man. This one grabbed him around the throat from behind, and his arm was like steel, crushing Gendry's throat...

The man coughed and Gendry felt something wet and warm spray over the side of his face before he felt the man's arm loosen its hold and he gasped for air, slamming his elbow into the man's stomach and then turning around, only to see the man keeling over, blood dripping from his mouth.

Then he fell, and behind him stood Arya, blood on her knife, and before Gendry could even think, she was turning around and setting herself on another man, blocking his blows and then slitting his throat with almost a practiced skill... And to think he had doubted whether she could handle herself.

"GENDRY!"

Gendry whipped around to see Yoren slam his fist in a man's face.

"GET OUT! GO! GO BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!

He disappeared in the thick of the fight. More gunshots. It sounded like someone had gotten out a a machine gun.

He needed to find Arya, and quickly.

"Arya!" He shouted, pushing people out of his way frantically. "ARYA-ARGH!"

Someone slammed their fist into his head and Gendry went crashing down, flipping around and catching the man as he went for his throat. They struggled together as the man's hands clawed for his skin, trying to close themselves over his throat...

Gendry brought his knee up and smashed it into the man's groin. He screamed, and Gendry grabbed his gun, slamming it into the side of the man's head and then throwing his body off him. He leapt to his feet.

"ARYA!"

There was a shriek. A girl's shriek.

Arya was battling a man twice her size, whipping around to block his blows and deliver a few of her own. The man would have had her by then and crushed her skull if she wasn't so quick, darting just out of his reach, and then coming back to attack him. But she wasn't quick enough. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around, his large hands closing in over her face, crushing at her skull as she screamed...

Gendry rushed up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?" He asked before he punched the man in the face just as Arya bit down on his fingers, drawing blood.

"Shoot him!" She shouted, but Gendry couldn't. He couldn't kill a man again. The gun was in his hand but...

The man snapped back up and tackled him, crashing to the ground. Gendry's head collided with the cement painfully and he roared in pain, his vision swimming. The man's fingers were like iron against his throat.

But then he was gone, and Gendry felt more warm liquid spreading against his chest...

"You idiot," a voice said, helping him to his feet as his head swam. "You should have shot him! Why didn't you just shoot him?"

"Arya..." He gasped, grabbing hold of her and then taking her face in his hands, only her face wouldn't stop shifting and swimming. "Arya we need to go... We need to get out of here..."

"No!" She shouted. "I can't leave them!"

"You're going to die!" Gendry shouted, his head starting to clear. "If we stay here a moment longer, you're going to die-"

"I can't let them get away!" She bellowed back, and tears were starting to run down her face. "I can't let them! I CAN'T!"

"I won't let you die!" Gendry roared. "It's my job to keep you safe-"

"Fuck your job!" Arya shouted, trying to wriggle away. "Let go of me! Let me go!"

The sound of a machine gun crackled and banged, and there were shouts and screams, and people around them fell like flies...

"You're going to die!" Gendry shouted again, shaking her. "How brave can you be when you're dead? Hmmm?"

She didn't answer him, but there was an unforgiving look of rage in her eyes and she wriggled and wrenched against him, screaming in frustration.

"LET ME GO!" She snarled through clenched teeth. "Let go-NO! NOOOO!"

She screamed and thrashed as Gendry shoved his gun in his pants and hoisted her up over his shoulder, her legs and arms flailing in mad protest. Not giving her a moment to wriggle away, he turned and dashed for the door.

"NOOOO!" She shrieked. "NO YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T LET THEM WIN YOU CAN'T!"

But he ignored her. Instead he raced forward, through the blood and the screaming and the mayhem, racing for the door. When he burst through it, he didn't stop. He ran until his lungs were raw and he could not run anymore, and then he finally set her down.

"YOU IDIOT!" She roared, hitting him. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU?"

"We've got to go," Gendry said. "We can't stay here. Yoren asked me-"

"YOREN'S PROBABLY DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" She screeched. "You could have stayed and fought! You could have saved him! YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!"

Tears ran down her face in torrents as she hit him again and again and again until she stumbled back, exhausted, dried blood on her trembling hands.

"We need to go," Gendry said, grabbing her wrist.

"No!" Arya snapped. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Gendry was about to argue, but then there was a crunch of gravel, and his heart dropped.

"I'd listen to your girlfriend," a deep voice said from the darkness, and a huge monstrous shadow stepped towards them. "You're not going anywhere."


	8. Until We Bleed

**Arya**

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me," Arya sang under her breath as the bus jolted, nearly sending her crashing into the window. The world outside spun away, a blur of trees and grass and empty buildings, but Arya remained trapped. Unmoving, her fingers trailing absent patterns on the glass.

"Happy birthday dear Arya... Happy birthday to me."

She breathed on the glass, her warm breath heating the cool glass with a coat of frosty moisture. Gently, she trailed her fingers to create a tiny birthday cake with candles. It would be the closest thing she'd get to a happy birthday, and the only recognition that this day was different from any ordinary day. Just a sad, dripping drawing was the only thing that told the world that Arya Stark was seventeen today. Not that the world cared or anything.

'_Make a wish.'_

For a moment she stared at the fading cake and candles, and contemplated what she would wish for... But there was nothing to wish for. Wishes never came true. Wishes were bullshit.

She reached out and harshly wiped the drawing away, the skin of her palm squeaking against the glass.

Next to her Gendry shifted, but when she turned, she saw that he was still sleeping. She turned away to look back out the window. She hadn't talked to him in three days, and she had done her best to not look at him either. It would be a shame to put all her hard work to waste and look at him now.

She was so angry with him it almost hurt. She couldn't even think about him without her heart turning black. She could never forgive him for letting them get away. Not only did he let the Lannisters get away, he also got them both caught. At this point it almost felt like he was adding insult to injury.

But he wouldn't have the decency to leave her alone, oh no. No he had his fucking job to consider, and now that Yoren was gone, he followed her like a shadow. She never talked to him, never looked at him, but she knew he was there. If she wasn't so angry with him it might have been comforting. As it was...

She had awoken three nights ago to realize that her head was on his shoulder, and to feel the weight of his head on hers. It was a strange feeling, a choking one. She had fallen asleep countless times on Jon's shoulder like that. Being so close to Gendry made her feel strangely lonely.

She had balled up the extra jacket around her shoulders and placed it where her head had been, so as not to wake him. She stood. Brushing herself off and checked her watch. She hadn't slept long, scarcely a half an hour, but she never slept long, if at all. This had been a new record for her.

Creeping quietly, she saw Yoren standing by the door, looking out through a crack in the wood and out at the world beyond. She stood by him for a while, looking with him, and the silence stretched on for what must have been a long time.

"There's a storm coming," Yoren said softly, pulling away. "You best be ready for it."

That's when he handed her the keys to the cop car where the three men where locked up. No explanation, if fact he said not a single word, but somehow Arya could sense why he had given her the keys. Because the storm came. It came that very night, two hours later.

And she was ready when it did.

In the mayhem and the fighting, she remembered the keys in her pocket and had pushed through the crowd, dodging the bullets and blows and racing into the night, expecting darkness only to realize that the world was ablaze. Blinking, she had whipped around.

The cop car was on fire. One of the thugs must have thrown a match in only seconds before...

"BOY!"

The man with the accent didn't have to yell. Quick as a flash, Arya threw the keys to his outstretched hands...

He rolled out of the car just in time, but his companions were not so lucky. No sooner had he escaped the flames, the car exploded, the impact of the blast sending Arya flat on her back, rubble and pieces of flaming metal raining down on her.

When she clamored to her feet again, he was gone.

She hadn't even bothered to look for him. She knew she wouldn't have found him. Instead, she went back to the fighting, saved Gendry's ass about three million times and bitterly regretted that she had. She should have just let him die. She _should_ have, but... She couldn't. Gendry hadn't meant to hurt her, or get them caught, he was just stupid.

The bus gave another jolt again, and this time it woke Gendry. She heard him cough next to her and felt him stretch slightly, but she still refused to look at him. It was immature and stupid, but sometimes she needed to be immature and stupid. It was either that or go crazy.

There came loud swearing from up front, and Arya peeked over the seats to see the driver, a huge man three times the size of Gendry, swear and slam his fist into the controls. This caused the bus to jolt again, this time even more violently. So violently that Arya was thrown into Gendry's lap.

She quickly scrambled away, still not looking at him, ignoring his mumbled 'sorry' and his gaze. He wanted to make it right with her, she knew. She knew he probably hated her rejection and total indifference. When she stole a glance at him, she saw the regret in his eyes. '_Whatever,' _she thought moodily to herself, '_it's his own damn fault.'_

There came another roar of fury from the man driving the bus, and the bus jolted again. They called him the Mountain, and Arya had seen him before. She had seen him hit a man so hard, he broke his neck. She was not looking to make friends with him, strangely enough.

There was a screeching of the brakes and the bus pulled off down a dirt road, slowing down until it stopped. The Mountain growled, quite loudly, and then kicked at the controls before stomping off the bus. Arya took this as a signal that it was time to get off the bus. Everyone else did as well.

Their company had tripled from it's previous size, though there were few to none from their original party. When the Mountain had shoved Arya and Gendry back to the warehouse, only a few people remained standing. Hot Pie was among them, looking and smelling like he had pissed his pants. Greenhands was alive, gasping in pain from a bullet hole in his leg, but that was quickly changed.

"You'll have to carry me, you twats," he had said, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth, than a bullet was laid into his skull. After that, no one said a word. Not one.

It was growing dark outside, and Arya was grateful for her bulky boys clothes, though they served no disguise anymore. The first day she had tried to hold it for so long... But when they stopped to take a piss, there was no privacy, though Gendry had tried to get her some. She hadn't thanked him for that, mainly because she was so upset when it didn't work. All he got was a swift blow to the head, and she had had to relieve herself like the rest of them, squatting down in front of everyone. There was no such thing as privacy with their new friends.

"Where are we going?" Gendry had asked an old woman on the bus. She had shrugged.

"Don't know," she said. "Doesn't matter. Not many of us will get there anyway."

She seemed right. Their kidnappers were looking for something, it seemed. At first they had been looking for Gendry, which had gotten them into this whole mess in the first place, but where ever they were going, it was for questioning.

_"Where is the Brotherhood?"_

"What's the Brotherhood?" Hot Pie had wanted to know.

"Do yourself a favor, boy, and don't ask," the old woman had said, and that was the closest they had gotten to an answer.

After that it was just a big load of silence.

The twilight was setting in, bathing the woods around them in a dusky light as they all crowded around, silent as mice. Arya hated it, being such a sheep, but what was she going to do? What was there to do when they took people off to the woods and the people didn't come back? Being brave was not an option here. The brave people were the first to disappear.

The Mountain screamed and kicked the bus again, but nothing else happened besides his excessive swearing. Arya shifted from foot to foot as he screamed and swore, until finally he seemed to grow tired of it, and, giving the bus one last, horribly murderous look, he turned back to the group.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way to Harrenhal," he said in his sandpaper voice. "This piece of shit isn't going anywhere."

"Harrenhal?" Hot Pie whimpered in her ear. "Isn't that the shut down amusement park? Nobody's been there in ages, I hear it's haunted!"

"Shut up," Arya hissed in annoyance. Ever since the attack in the warehouse, Hot Pie seemed to be under the impression that they were now suddenly friends. He followed her _everywhere. _He was even worse than Gendry. At least Gendry didn't talk.

"It's getting dark," one of the thugs grunted. "Shouldn't we just spend the night here?"

"Makes sense," said another, but neither of them looked at the Mountain. Everyone was afraid of him.

He just growled, but that seemed to be enough for the two men, because they started rounding up people and getting out blankets (not for the shivering, cold kids that were amongst the people they were holding hostage, oh no. For themselves).

Arya found a spot in the shadow of the bus and sat down, Gendry and Hot Pie following behind her like some sort of perverse dogs. Zipping up her jacket, she turned away from them, bringing her knees to her chest to keep warm.

'_Happy birthday to me.'_

Though it was stupid, Arya couldn't help but compare this birthday to the one that she had the year before. It had been her sixteenth, a grand affair, and her Mum had made cake, red velvet, and her Dad had grilled them all steaks. It was her whole family, plus Theon of course. Robb and Jon had taken time off work and school to spend the entire day at Winterfell. It had been the perfect birthday. Robb, Jon and Theon had all pitched in and bought her a bow and arrows, so that they could teach her archery. Her Dad and Mum had gotten her what she had wanted for ages, fencing lessons, and even Sansa's gift didn't suck. The blue high tops, which she was now wearing, the best gift Sansa had ever given her.

Rickon fell a little short. He was nine at the time, and had given her a soccer ball, something she knew _he_ wanted. It had been of no consequence. Arya was not disappointed, happy in fact, because it lead to a huge game of family soccer, one that lasted hours. Afterwards, exhausted, she and Bran had climbed up their favorite tree, heart tree, and looked out over the beautiful scenery of the North to watch the sun set. It had been the perfect day, and thinking about it now, how happy she had been, how happy they all had been, made Arya feel tears prickling at her eyes.

It was horrible here, and it had been a horrible birthday. Now that it was starting to get dark, they'd be choosing girls. They usually did when the sun started to set. Arya was lucky, she wasn't as pretty as some of the girls with them and her chopped hair made her look too boyish. So far no one seemed to even have thought about choosing her. Still, when it came choosing time, it was a good idea to keep a low profile. Thinking about the screams made her sick. A tear squeezed from her eye...

"Arya?" Gendry asked gently. "Are you okay?"

No she was obviously not okay, but she didn't want to talk to _him_ about it, so she stood abruptly and stalked off, bunching her coat tight around her shoulders. She kept her head bent low as she wove through the people sitting on the ground, all glassy eyed, staring absently into space. She didn't want anyone to see that she had been crying.

Not looking where she was going, she bumped into someone.

"Sorry," she mumbled, making to go past them, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"You."

"What?" Arya asked, confused, and then she looked up straight into the face of Chiswyke, one of the Mountain's men.

"You."

Arya felt her blood turn to ice. Realization hit her skin like cold needles, prickling, and her heart dropped. No, no, no, no, no!

"No," she said, trying to wriggle free in her desperation.

"Sorry," the man said, leaning in. Arya wrenched her face away. "Wrong answer. You're coming with me."

"NO!" She wrenched in earnest, clawing at the man's arm as he attempted to drag her towards the woods. "LET GO! LET GO OF ME!"

If she had Needle, she might have been able to threaten him or at least defend herself, but they had taken that too. Once they were in the woods, there would be no escape. The girls who tried to run got shot.

"Let her go."

Arya wrenched up to see Gendry standing in the man's path looking thunderous. He had never looked so deadly, and suddenly she felt a rush of infinite gratefulness that he was still looking out for her. The fact that his arm was the size of a child's head was another comfort.

"Oooh, is this your boyfriend?" The man leered, chuckling.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!" Arya protested at once. The man made to pass him, but Gendry stepped sideways and blocked his way.

"Let go of her," Gendry ordered in a low voice. "And I won't hurt you."

The man blinked, and then threw his head back and roared with laughter. Arya watched as he howled, laughing so hard tears streamed from his eyes.

"Not very bright, you're boyfriend," the man said to Arya. "Step aside, _boy_, or I'll shoot you."

Gendry glared at him stubbornly, not moving an inch.

"Enough of this, kid," the man said, starting to sound annoyed. He gave a whistle, and the other thugs came to join him. "Step aside."

"Not until you let her go," Gendry snarled.

The man sighed, and then jerked his head.

One of the thugs stepped forward and made to punch Gendry, but he dodged the blow and delivered one of his own, straight to the man's stomach. He doubled over in pain, but then there was a movement of shadows, and before Arya could scream for Gendry to look out, a man stepped from behind him and grabbed his arm. Gendry made to whip around, but the Mountain was too fast for him. One swift blow broke Gendry's arm and he screamed in pain, a punch to the jaw sending him to his knees.

"I thought he told you to step aside," the Mountain said in a deep rumble, grabbed Gendry's broken arm and then forcing it behind him as he roared in gut-wrenching pain.

"Not... Until... He... Lets her go," Gendry gasped, panting. The man holding Arya shook his head.

"Let her go, Chiswyke," the Mountain ordered to Arya's utter disbelief.

"But-"

"Then I'll fuck her, and we can make lover boy here watch."

"NOOO!" Gendry shouted. "NO!"

"You can have her after," the Mountain offered when Chiswyke looked reluctant to let Arya go. He laughed.

"Sure boss," he said, dragging Arya, who struggled violently, to the Mountain. He towered over her like a giant.

"PLEASE!" Gendry shouted as the Mountain's hands clamped themselves onto her arm like steel. "Please!"

"Someone shut him up," the Mountain sighed, sounding bored. Another thug took a step forward-

"If you let her go, I'll tell you everything!" Gendry shouted, his eyes streaming in pain. There was a moment's pause as the Mountain waited. Arya realized she was holding her breath. Gendry lifted his head up and stared straight into the Mountain's eyes. "I'll tell you about the Brotherhood!"

**cliffhanger…**


	9. Candles

**I would have uploaded this earlier if it wasn't for the internet being annoying. X(**

**Gendry**

'_That's it, I'm fucked.' _

Gendry looked from the Mountain, whose expression was completely unreadable, his eyes like two black coals under the thick of his eyebrows, to Arya. If the Mountain's eyes were unreadable, Arya's were an open book. Wide, alarmed, and stunned. She completely believed it, every word. And if Arya believed it...

"What do you know?" the Mountain demanded, handing a shocked Arya to Chiswyke and striding over to him. Looking up at him was almost like being swallowed alive, Gendry mused.

"Let her go first," Gendry said. "Or I won't say anything. You can break every bone in my body and I won't talk."

There was a swelling moment of silence...

"Let her go," the Mountain barked.

"But-"

"LET HER GO!" He screamed with such violence that Arya gave a little scream herself. "Or I'll drag your sorry ass of into the forest and shoot you through the fucking head!"

Chiswyke dropped Arya's arm.

"What. Do. You. Know?"

'_Absolutely fucking nothing.' _Gendry could really punch himself in the face for being so stupid, but what was he supposed to have done? He couldn't have let them hurt her. He couldn't. When he saw Chiswyke put his hands on her...

But now what was he supposed to do? He had about fifteen seconds to spill all about something he had no fucking clue about or they were going to hurt Arya, and kill him too. His heart began to beat uncontrollably. What had he done? '_You fucking stupid!'_ This would make it worse! This would make it so much worse...

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"

"Tell us or she gets it," Chiswyke said hastily, snatching Arya again. Arya stared at him with horrified eyes. She was trying to look brave, to be brave, he could tell. Her face was the perfect picture of defiance... But it was all a sham, because her eyes betrayed her. He had to do something. He _had_ too.

"Just let her go," Gendry said, and Chiswyke did what he was told, looking disgruntled. Gendry cleared his throat, his mind racing. "I'll... I'll tell you everything... I'll..."

"You're lying."

Ice stabbed Gendry, turning his sweat cold and his body numb.

"You're lying," the Mountain said slowly. "You're-"

"What's going on here?"

Everybody jumped, and then Gendry gasped aloud, because the last person he expected on the planet to ever show up at a time like this was Tywin Lannister. But there he was, beige suit and all, glaring at the Mountain with such a white, pure look of fury that would send Gendry running. But the Mountain was the Mountain, and his hand remained firmly on Gendry's shoulder.

"Shouldn't you be at Harrenhal by now?" Tywin demanded, glaring disapprovingly at them all.

"I- Sir, we... We weren't expecting you for three days," Chiswyke sputtered, terrified. Tywin closed his eyes.

"I decided to come early," he said, as if he really shouldn't be explaining all this. "I was just driving to Harrenhal when I saw the bus pulled off onto this dirt road, when it should be on its way to Harrenhal."

"Piece of shit broke down," the Mountain grunted.

"It's true!" Chiswyke said quickly. "It wouldn't move another inch. We had to stop, and it was getting dark..."

"So you decided to camp out here for the night," Tywin said, and Gendry could tell that he was feeling the height of irritation. "What about this? Hmmm? What are you doing with this boy."

"He said he knew something about the Brotherhood, but he was lying," the Mountain said darkly. "Seems to me there's nothing left but to shoot him."

"Shoot him?" Tywin gave Gendry a long, searching look. "That would be a waste, I think. For example, how would we know why he's been lying if we shot him?"

The Mountain didn't seem to have an answer.

"Why were you lying?" Tywin Lannister demanded. Gendry gulped, his throat dry. Words were piling up in his head, but they weren't coming out of his mouth...

"I didn't want them to touch her," he said in a rush. "I... I didn't want them to hurt her."

Tywin Lannister stared at him for a long, painful moment. Gendry held his breath, his heart hammering and his broken arm tingling oddly. There was a very real possibility that Tywin Lannister would spit in his face. Would call him a stupid cunt, maybe not unjustly, and then order the Mountain to get on with it. Shot him in the head. Hurt Arya. The moment seemed to drag on and on forever...

"Do you mean to tell me that you intended to hurt this girl?" Tywin Lannister said in a low voice.

Gendry held his breath as Chiswyke sputtered and tripped over his words, guilty.

"I... Uh... We... She... She asked for it!" He retched out, white as sleet. Tywn eyed him coldly.

"How old are you, girl?" He demanded of Arya.

"Six-Seventeen," she said in a shaky voice.

"Seventeen," Tywin said, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again, livid. "Do you mean to tell me that a seventeen-year-old girl, who is looking terrified at the moment, I might add, _asked_ to be taken into the woods to be deflowered by _you_?"

Chiswyke had no response for that.

"Idiots," Tywin said, disgusted. He turned to Gendry. "What's your name?"

Gendry gulped. He remembered, in a flash, that Cersei, Tywin's daughter, had been looking for him. It would be unwise to say his real name.

"Umm... Uhh..." He searched desperately. "Robert."

"Robert?" Something in Tywin's eyes said he wasn't convinced. "And what is it that you do, _Robert_?"

"I'm... I'm a mechanic."

Tywn Lannister gave a long, slow in take of breath.

"Is anyone else here a mechanic?" He asked, turning to the group at large. No one raised their hands or stepped forward. There was a swelling, crackling silence as Tywin slowly turned to the Mountain.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said, getting very red in the face, "that your bus breaks down, and you decide to shoot _the only person_ who can fix it?"

There was a pause.

"Didn't know he was a mechanic, did I?" The Mountain finally replied.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Tywin said with a sigh. He shook his head. "Well, I certainly didn't hire you for your brains, did I?"

No one seemed to have a response for that.

"Let go of the poor girl," Tywin snapped at Chiswyke. Reluctantly, he released Arya, who wrenched away from him rubbed her arm. "And don't put your hands on her again. Not after her poor boyfriend's gone to so much trouble."

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!"

"Can you fix that bus?" Tywn asked Gendry, ignoring Arya completely.

"I could," Gendry said, "but my arm's sort of broken."

Tywin gave another loud sigh.

"All right," he said. "You, come with me. I'll see that you get medical attention. We'll be needing your mechanical eye at Harrenhal."

"No," Gendry said at once. "Not without her."

Tywin shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, "but the girl stays. You'll see her at Harrenhal soon enough."

"I can't leave her," Gendry said at once as Tywin snapped his fingers and a man, not one from the Mountain's party, came forward and helped him to his feet. "I'm sorry but I can't. I promised-"

"No harm will come to her," Tywin vowed. "You have my word. I'll even leave one of my men to stay at her side and make sure she's untouched."

Gendry looked at Arya, who looked just as distressed as he did. He couldn't leave her. He didn't trust Tywin, even if he just saved his life. Lannisters were after him, and they were dangerous. Tywin might say he'd protect Arya, but would he really do it? It seemed likely, but then again...

"Look," Tywin said, as if reading his mind, "this isn't up for debate. Either you come quietly, or we'll have to use force. I'd prefer quietly myself."

Gendry threw Arya a wretched look.

"Go," she said. "I'll be all right, honestly."

She didn't look all right, though. She looked exhausted and alone and she was sad, Gendry could see, terribly sad. He didn't want to leave her in the lion's jaws.

"I'll give you a moment alone," Tywin relented. "But then I'm taking you to get that arm fixed."

They all turned and left, the Mountain, Chiswyke, all of them. It was getting hard to see, but Gendry could tell that Arya was shivering. She was looking at him too, he could tell. He lifted his head to look at her.

"You didn't know anything, did you?" She said, shifting from foot to foot. "About the Brotherhood?"

Gendry sighed.

"No."

"You _idiot_!" She shrieked, marching over to him and punching him, her small fists surprisingly sharp. "You could have been killed! They were going to KILL YOU!"

"Oww!" Gendry cried, trying to block her furious punches. "GET OFF!"

"You bloody idiot!" Arya shouted, and he could see in the moonlight that tears were streaming down her face. "You are honestly the stupidest person I have _ever_ met!"

"OWW!" Gendry roared. "THAT'S MY ARM YOU HIT!"

She stopped hitting him, but she was still glaring at him.

"What would ever possess you to do something so stupid?" She demanded.

"I couldn't-they were going to-You were stupid too!" Gendry shouted back, feeling frustrated as well. "You were the one who walked into Chiswyke!"

She had no response for this.

"Look," Gendry snapped. "I've got to go."

"Fine," she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Go. I don't want you here anyway."

"Good," Gendry snapped, pushing past her and making his way to leave, when he remembered something. He turned around and strode back to her, fishing around in his pocket.

"What are you-"

"Here," he said, shoving it in her hand. "Happy birthday Arya."

Then he turned and left. Left her standing there, in bewilderment, tears still sticking to her face, darkness swallowing her up, her fingers clutching his present to her. The last thing he had made before Yoren came with his little proposition. The necklace with the head of a bull.

**I always felt like Twyin Lannister was really Scar.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts... But I'm afraid you all hate this**


	10. Paradise Circus

**Well I'm really glad you guys are liking this, because it was sort of touch and go at the beginning there ;) **

** Arya**

The walk to Harrenhal was only five miles, but it felt like they walked over whole countries that day. Part of that was due to the fact that the Mountain refused to walk alongside the road, where they might be seen. Apparently amongst their company there were some high profile hostages, and highway patrols were on the lookout. So seeing as the last thing the Mountain and his thugs needed was more of Tywin Lannisters annoyance and rage, they walked as far away from the highway as possible. As a result, their path was mostly through the woods, slowing them to almost a crawl so that by the time they got to Harrenhal, the day was almost over.

As she tromped through the woods, getting bitten by mosquitoes, sloshing through creeks and having branches whip her face, Arya clutched the bull necklace, Gendry's present to her. She had thought that no one cared or cared to know that it was her birthday, but Gendry did. He had remembered, which was surprising enough, but what was more, she recognized his handiwork. The bull necklace was most assuredly made by the same person who had made her wolf necklace that still hung around her neck, tucked away and hidden under her shirt. A little piece of home even when she was miles and miles away.

_"Local artist who works in a car shop,"_ the vendor had said when he sold her the necklace. She had never guessed in a million years that the artist would be Gendry. He just didn't seem the type to create something so beautiful. The bull's horns looked ready to charge, a look of defiance in its carved face, the muscles in its body poised and ready. When she shifted it in the speckled light streaming through the leaves, it almost looked like it moved.

She wanted to take out her wolf and compare the two, but that, however small, seemed too risky. Someone might make the connection and realize who she was. Her identity was her only weapon here, as well as her biggest weakness. If Tywin Lannister knew who she was... She didn't care if he had saved Gendry's life. He was a Lannister, and every Lannister was an enemy. She hated to think of Gendry there with him. What if he was actually just taking Gendry off somewhere quiet so that he could torture him to reveal Arya's identity and kill him?

Ugh, he was so stupid! Just thinking about him made her angry, and she shoved the bull necklace in her pocket. What was he thinking, lying like that? Obviously he wasn't thinking! He never thought! If Tywin hadn't shown up at that very opportune moment, they would have killed him or worse! Why couldn't he have just kept his stupid stubborn mouth shut? He was more trouble than he was worth.

But at least Gendry had some worth, with his brawn and imposing look, Hot Pie was an entirely different story. After Gendry nearly got his head shot off, and drove away in the back of Tywin Lannister's car, Hot Pie had clung to her like a giant squid. Unlike Gendry, he was constantly terrified, whining to Arya the entire walk to Harrenhal.

"Back in the sixties, when it was up and running, a roller coaster broke, full of kids, and they all died," he said of Harrenhal, wiping the pools of sweat off of his double chin. "That's why they had to shut it down, and now the kids haunt it. Anyone who goes there can hear their screams."

"Really?" Arya said sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Hot Pie said in earnest terror, nodding vigorously. "Their souls are tortured, locked there forever."

"You know what that sounds like to me?" Arya asked him.

"What?" Hot Pie replied, eyes wide.

"Bullshit," she snapped flatly. "Leave me alone."

With that she picked up her pace so that he couldn't follow her. She was sick of people following her, she decided. But... As the day wore on, she realized it was weird having Gendry gone. More than once she looked over her shoulder and expected to see him there, ready to roll her eyes and think dark thoughts about how annoying he was, only to remember that he was gone. She might not even see him again, maybe never.

They arrived at Harrenhal late in the afternoon, and Arya was tired. She hadn't slept that night, with Gendry gone. She had crawled under the bus and stayed there, her eyes open, her ears alert, but no one had come for her. Tywin had stayed true to his word on that account at least. She had made it to Harrenhal more or less unscathed.

Hot Pie had been right, about Harrenhal being creepy. It was creepy, all broken down and empty and unused. It stretched out over a pier, into the biggest lake that Arya had ever seen. It was almost like the ocean, so wide that she couldn't see the other side. It disappeared into the horizon, tiny waves lapping at the shore. The effect wasn't calming or relaxing, but eerie. There was a fog that had settled in over the water, and the lake stank like death.

Harrenhal itself loomed ahead, dark and dank. The rides were decaying, overgrown with weeds and covered in dust. They groaned with every wave, and every shift in the wind. The wind screamed and whistled through the structures, which at one time must have been painted brilliantly, but now the paint had faded and chipped away. As they walked through it, the rides looming over them, casting monstrous shadows. It had such a forgotten feeling, a certain deadness that seemed to sing the same hollow song in Arya's heart.

"Tywin Lannister wants to get this place back to its formal glory," Chiswyke informed the group as they walked towards the end of the enormous pier. "You can imagine why. Just _think_ of the money this place could bring in."

Arya looked around at the broken down rides and the creaking planks under their feet and thought that restoring Harrenhal to its formal glory would probably cost more than it was worth. Gendry might have been good with cars, but this... This was a whole different matter. Arya just hoped that he would be useful enough so that Tywin would keep him. _'Just do me a favor, and for once in your stupid life don't die.'_

She kicked at a piece of trash. Why did she care if he lived or died? She didn't! He was a fucking idiot, and she was tired of idiots! He'd probably do her a favor by dying! Then no one would know who she was, and her identity wouldn't be in danger of being discovered. If Tywin came back with no Gendry, she'd be happy. She _would_.

"Okay," Chiswyke said, halting the group, "you, you, you and you, come with me."

Hot Pie and Arya exchanged nervous looks as they stepped forward along with two others. Chiswyke didn't give any explanation for what he wanted them for, he just signaled them to follow. They branched off from the group and walked past a carousal and a ferris wheel before they stopped in front of a restaurant and what looked to be some offices. Chiswyke banged on the door of the restaurant, and an old man with a thick, disgusting beard came out, his beady little eyes glaring at all of them.

"This here is Wheeze," Chiswyke grunted. "Wheeze, meet our new recruits."

Arya and Hot Pie looked sideways at each other.

"A couple of sticks and a fat kid," Wheeze said with a grunt, eyeing them all. When his eyes passed over Arya, her skin crawled. "I suppose if you like to eat, you know how to cook? Ehh piggy piggy?"

Hot Pie's face went beat red, and for the first time Arya felt a stab of sympathy for him.

"Don't call him that!" She snapped.

"And who's this, ehh?" Wheeze said, narrowing his eyes at Arya. "Looks like a boy, but you can never tell these days, with the short hair. What are you, some sort of lesbian?"

Arya glared at him. She decided she hated Wheeze.

"I'm not a lesbian," she snarled. "I just happen to like my short hair."

"She's got a boyfriend, that one," Chiswyke said with a chuckle. "A real live one at that."

"I do _not_ have a boyfriend!" Arya cried, but they both laughed.

"This one's bound for the shit pickers, I think," Wheeze said with a wheeze.

"The shit pickers?" Arya spat in indignation.

"Yeah," Chiswyke gloated. "See you get the lovely job of picking up all the shit that's been left here over the years. You'll fit right in."

Arya curled her hands into fists and tried not to loose her temper. But she wanted so badly to hurt them. She hated them. _Hated_ them.

"What's your name, _shit picker_?" Wheeze asked, flashing her a mocking toothy grin. Arya scowled at him. This was a bit of a problem. She couldn't say Arry, because that was a boy's name, and obviously they knew she wasn't a boy, but she couldn't very well tell them her real name.

"It's Nymeria," she said, saying the first name that popped into her head. Saying the name sent a stab of pain through her hollow heart. Nymeria was the name of her beloved husky who was probably lost or maybe even dead.

"Nemarnia?" Chiswyke said stupidly. "What sort of shit name is that?"

"You can just call me Nan," Arya sighed, giving up. "Unless that's too hard for you?"

"Watch yourself, _shit picker_, your boyfriend's not here, along with Tywin. You've got no one to look out for you now, no one to protect you-"

"I don't need protection!" Arya snarled, glaring at Chiswyke, but he only laughed.

"Look around you," he said, stepping forward and leaning very close to her face. His breath stank of tobacco and beer. "This here is our territory. Tywin might think he's calling all the shots, but, well, do you really think he'd notice if a little piece of shit like you disappeared? If you scream, no one will hear you. So just think on that."

Arya did look around her, and she realized that Chiswyke had a point. She had no Needle, no Gendry and even no Tywin. She could handle herself, she knew, but against a throng of men who were three times her size? There was no where to run, there was no way to run. She was trapped, and she hated it. She hated being helpless. Arya Stark was not a mouse, she was not helpless, but it appeared that Nan was.

"You done?" Wheeze demanded. "It's cold out here, and I got myself a beer inside to keep me warm. I want to get this over with."

Chiswyke leaned back slowly, his eyes never leaving Arya's. She glared right back. She might not be able to kill him, or even hurt him, but she would not be cowed. She would not let them scare her.

"Yeah," Chiswyke said, spitting, "we're done."

He turned and left, and Arya glared daggers after him. She hoped the creaking dock would suddenly give way under his weight and he'd fall and break his neck. _'One day I'll get him,' _she thought. '_Then he'll be sorry he ever tried to frighten me.'_

"All right you shits," Wheeze said, scratching his face and narrowing his eyes at them, "you work for me now. Whatever Wheeze tells you to do, you do it, or we'll tie a weight to your feet and throw you over the edge of the pier."

"You wouldn't... Not really, right?" Hot Pie squeaked in horror. Wheeze narrowed his eyes even more at Hot Pie, and then snarled, causing Hot Pie to jump and squeal.

"Piggy," Wheeze said with a wheezing laugh, giving Arya a defiant look. "Did I scare the little piggy? You better watch your fat mouth boy. You think I'm just throwing shit around? Why don't you wait, wait until the tide goes out, and then you go to the edge of that pier there, and you look over the edge? Then you'll watch your mouth."

Hot Pie nodded vigorously, white as sleet.

"Okay you lot," Wheeze said, straightening up. "You two, you're on paint duty. Piggy, you stay with me in the restaurant, and you, shit picker, you go down to the end of the pier to the fun house. You've missed dinner, but in your case, piggy, you could stand to loose a few meals. Now get!"

Arya sighed and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders as the wind began to pick up, the fog starting to become so thick that the rides on the pier were turning into nothing but groaning shadows. Hot Pie looked upset that she was leaving, but what was she to do? She turned and waved, but even that felt forced, and then she kept walking, and soon Hot Pie and the others disappeared.

The fun house wasn't far. It, by far, was the ugliest of all the structures. Once, it must have been painted with some sort of mural, but now that the paint eroded, the pictures looked grotesque and chilling, limbs and shapes all twisted together. A huge, creepy clown stood at the entrance, and when Arya walked by it, it cackled and rocked back and forth, it's laughter sending chills up her spine.

"I told you a million times, Chiswyke, to fuck off- oh," a filthy looking young man said, coming to the entrance. He looked Arya up and down with raised eyebrows. "Who are you supposed to be? Did Chiswyke send you?"

"No," Arya said. "Wheeze."

"Tell him to forget it," the young man demanded. "Either they give us what we agreed on, or we walk out. Simple as that."

"Erm no," Arya said. "Wheeze sent me because I'm supposed to be... Umm..."

"A shit picker?" The young man asked. He couldn't have been older than Robb and Jon, and thinking about them made her heart ache.

"Yeah."

"Ugh," he groaned. "Not another one! We don't have room."

Arya didn't know what to say, but now that the clown had shut up, she could hear the sounds of people within the fun house, talking and laughing and yelling. They all sounded pretty young, but older than her. What was this place?

"Ack, well come on then," he sighed, waving her forward. She followed cautiously.

They wove through a maze of glass and mirrors, one the young man seemed to have memorized, because he slunk through them with practiced ease, so quickly that Arya had to nearly run to keep up. After that, he pushed through a set of cut-up curtains, and Arya found herself in a very odd room, one with a low hanging ceiling and several contraptions, like a floor that must have at one time moved back and forth. What was even more strange was that the room was full of young men, all smoking and drinking and lying about. They stank.

"Girls are upstairs," the young man told her, pointing to a set of uneven stairs. "Hopefully they'll have a spare sleeping bag. It gets cold here at night."

Arya nodded and buried her hands in her pockets, picking her way around the boys sprawled all over the floor, trying not to step on them and all their filth. She couldn't tell whether some of the stuff they had on the floor was garbage or not. One boy was eating a sandwich that looked as though it had been stepped on.

She climbed up the stairs, and felt at once, a rush of cold air. The upper level of the fun house was crowded as well, but maybe a bit less disgusting, and certainly much colder. That was because there was a door that had been taken off its hinges, leading out onto a balcony, and the cold air rushed in, blasting her hood off her head and ruffling her hair.

"Not another one," a voice sighed from somewhere to her left. Arya looked over to see a girl, maybe nineteen or younger, stand up, a cigarette between two fingers. She stumbled, and Arya could tell at once that she was probably drunk. Her clothes were filthy dirty, her hair tangled and her make-up smudged. "What's the problem kiddo? Mum and Dad tired of you stealing their booze?"

"I-What?" Arya asked, clearing the stairs and standing up. "What are you even talking about?"

"Well that's what you're here for, isn't it?" The girl asked, waving her beer in Arya's face. "Do yourself a favor, kiddo, and just go back to stealing from daddy's wine cabinet. It's not worth it."

She brought the bottle to her lips and took a long, unsightly drink, scowling when she was done.

"Definitely not worth it."

"What are you talking about?" Arya demanded, confused.

"The contract," said another voice. "What's going on, hmm kid? Didn't you know what you signed up for?"

This one belonged to a different girl, older than the first.

"I didn't sign up for this!" Arya shouted. "I didn't sign up for anything! I was kidnapped!"

The first girl laughed, but the second one gave her a long look.

"Tywin must be getting pretty desperate," she said. "I thought he'd crossed the line when he offered us our deal."

"What deal?" Arya demanded.

"Free booze and housing if we cleaned up this dump for him," the older girl explained.

"That seems like a pretty cheep deal to me," Arya grumbled suspiciously. The girl shrugged.

"It would be, if he didn't promise more," she said. "After this jobs finished, he'll give us what he promised."

"And what would that be?"

"Free drugs," the tipsy girl said. "And the good shit too."

"You're doing this, living here in this shit hole and picking up garbage so that Tywin Lannister will give you free drugs?" Arya spat, disgusted. The older girl shrugged.

"It beats sleeping on the streets," she said. "Did you see the city when you came in?"

Arya shook her head.

"It's a nightmare," the older girl said. "You look skinny, but you don't look poor. You've probably never worked a day in your life, am I right?"

Arya nodded begrudgingly.

"Then you don't know what it's like," the girl said, "to live in constant fear. You don't know when your next meal is going to be, or if you're going to wake up with a knife cutting your throat, or some man on top of you. Here, well it might be shit, but at least it's safe."

Safe. That was the biggest joke Arya had heard in a long time.

"What are we going to do with her?" The tipsy girl asked. "We don't have anymore sleeping bags."

"She can sleep near me," the older girl said with a shrug, "and you can give her your blanket."

The tipsy girl glared.

"Don't even try to argue," the older girl snapped, "you've had that blanket for weeks, and she'll freeze to death if you don't let her have it."

The tipsy girl took another long swig of beer, draining the glass, and then flipped the older girl off, stumbling off a few feet to pick up a ratty old blanket and then chuck it at Arya, before stomping away. The blanket stank of piss.

"Well," the older girl said with a small grin, "welcome to the shit pickers kiddo. You got a name?"

"Ummm Nan," Arya mumbled.

"Nan? Well you're lucky, that's easy," the older girl said, pushing her mass of curly red hair out of her eyes.

"Why, what's yours?" Arya asked.

"Ygritte," the older girl said, and when she smiled again, Arya saw that her teeth were crooked, but somehow that seemed to work. She was actually sort of pretty, if she did something about bathing. "Come on you, you must be tired. It looks like you haven't slept in weeks."

It was true, she hadn't slept in weeks, but she doubted she'd sleep that night. Not here, where it smelled horrible, and not just the people. Every gust of wind brought in the smell of the lake and the city that sat on the shore next to the pier. It was cold here too. So bitingly cold. She missed Gendry's jackets.

"Sorry but I'm next to the door," Ygritte said, motioning to a sleeping bag. "But it's almost better this way. The wind tends to blow straight back. Still, it's not nice to know that if anything crawled up from the outside, we'd be the first thing it goes for."

Arya pulled the blanket around her shoulders. It was getting dark outside, causing the shadows to creep and swell. Ygritte sat down and leaned against the wall, and Arya sat with her, though not in the sleeping bag.

"Cigarette?" Ygritte asked, pulling one out. Arya shook her head. "Smart choice. You'll save yourself the lung cancer. Wish I could say the same for myself, but... Well nicotine's addictive isn't it? Fucking capitalists and their fucking companies."

She lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

"The thing is," she said, "these calm me down. I just sort of stop fidgeting, and all my thoughts just sort of stop for a little bit, not like with weed, but different. It distracts me."

Arya watched as she slowly inhaled and then exhaled and she understood. She wanted something to distract her too. She wanted to stop thinking for a moment. There were too many murderous thoughts crowding in her head.

"Maybe I will have one of those," she said, holding out her hand. Ygritte gave her a sad look, but pulled one out just the same.

"You don't seem to be from the South," she said, lighting Arya's cigarette. On the first inhale, Arya coughed so violently she thought she would hack up a lung. The second drag was a little less worse. "You look like a Northern girl to me."

Arya blanched, unsure of what to say or do. She instead took another drag from her cigarette and coughed.

"It's okay," Ygritte said, "you don't have to tell me anything. I'm from the North too, as it so happens."

"You are?" Arya asked as Ygritte shook out her hair and then pushed it out of her face. She didn't look very Northern, but... Well now that she looked at her, Arya supposed Ygritte did look like she had lived in the cold. But there was something wild about her, something untamed that didn't really belong anywhere.

"Yup," Ygritte said, making little rings with her smoke. "But probably farther North then you've ever been."

"You mean... Like beyond the Wall?" Arya asked in a whisper. If that was true, then Ygritte was an illegal immigrant.

"That's where I was born," she said. "That's where I lived until I was ten, and then my mum got it in her head to move down South. It didn't work out as she planned."

She gave a bitter laugh.

"Is your mum still alive?" Arya wondered.

"No," Ygritte said with a quick shake of her hair. "Not for a long time now. Nine years now. That's how long I've been on my own."

"And now you're working for Tywin," Arya said, feeling rot in her mouth, or maybe that was the cigarette.

"Only because I have to," Ygritte said, "as soon as we get what we asked for, I'm out of here."

"Where will you go?"

Ygritte turned and gave Arya a long look.

"You ask an awful lot of questions without giving any answers about yourself," Ygritte said with narrowed eyes. "A secret for a secret, Nan."

Arya opened her mouth, and then thought for a long time. What could she say that wouldn't give away who she was?

"How about this," Ygritte said, "how does a girl like you end up in a place like this? Hmm?"

"I was on my way home," Arya said honestly, "but the Mountain got us before we could get there."

"Us?" Ygritte pressed. Arya swallowed.

"Yeah," she said, "umm... Me, Gendry and Hot Pie."

"Who's Hot Pie, your dog?" Ygritte asked and Arya laughed.

"No," she said. "He's one of the other new recruits. He works in the restaurant."

"Lucky bastard," Ygritte said with a snap. "What about the other one? What was his name?"

"Gendry," just the mention of his name brought anger to her heart. Stupid bull boy. "He got his arm broken by the Mountain, so Tywin's getting it fixed."

"Must be he's a special kid," Ygritte said, "Tywin doesn't usually fix broken things, he either dumps them, or has somebody else deal with them."

Arya had nothing to say to that.

"So," she said, "I told you my secret, now tell me yours. Why are you here? And where are you going?"

"You hardly told me a secret," Ygritte said with a huff, "but what the hey. I'm not here for the drugs, I mean, well I am, but not to use them. For what they can buy."

"What they can buy?"

"I'm going to sell my share," she said, "so I can go North and then get past the Wall."

"Why?" Arya asked, suddenly thinking of Jon, who was no doubt still stationed there, at the Wall. Ygritte looked around, and then leaned in.

"There's a man beyond the Wall," she said in a low voice, "and he's doing what no one else has ever done before."

"What's that?" Arya wanted to know, but Ygritte shook her head.

"That's why I'm here," she told Arya, "to get money and then get out and go help him. It's high time girls and people like me had their say in this fucked up world, and Mance can give us that voice."

"Mance?" Arya asked, but Ygritte clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Don't ever say that name," she whispered, "not if you know what's good for you, got that? I've told you too much as it is."

Arya nodded and Ygritte released her.

"It's time for bed," she said. "We get up before the sun rises tomorrow, and it's all work until the sun sets again."

Ygritte put out her cigarette and shuffled down into her sleeping bag, turning away from Arya. Darkness had fallen completely, and the room was black, the shadows of people sleeping only barely visible. Arya leaned against the wall and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders and staring off into the darkness.

Try as she might, she barely slept that night. There were a few hours, between midnight and about three in the morning, that she nodded off, but when she dreamed, it was only on her fathers face, and his blood spilling from his head, and Gendry's screams. After she woke, shaking, the sun was beginning to slowly rise, the darkness lifting. Unable to get the crawling out of her skin, Arya stood and walked out of the door and onto the balcony, looking out over the fog.

The tide had pulled out, and when she looked down, the pier had ended. Instead of water, however, Arya could see the mud in the gloom, and then something else. Lumps. She squinted, and as the sun began to rise, and the tide started to come back in, she saw what the lumps were, and suddenly she realized why the lake stank so bad. Decaying bodies, all tangled together, cement tied to their feet.

"They tried to run."

Arya jumped violently, but it was only Ygritte.

"Do yourself a favor, kid," she said softly, "play nice. Otherwise... You'll be joining them."

**thank you guys, by the way, for your lovely comments. Reviews are like my muse, they inspire me to keep writing and improving**


	11. Don't Trust Me

**I'm sorry, I know you all wanted Gendry... But I've been ignoring Sansa, and I have to have her in here, because her story line is important for later =/ But the next chapter is a Gendry chapter!**

** Sansa**

The cut above her eye was healing, the flesh pulling together under the scab. Soon there would be no scab, only a scar. Joffrey would like that, better then a scab. Scars were easier to hide, and she was prettier without dried blood caked to her forehead. Joffrey liked her pretty, that much had been obvious.

"Just give him what he wants," the Hound had told her after Joffrey forced her to look upon her father's frozen body.

'_How can I give him what he wants when he keeps beating me?'_ To Sansa, the logic seemed flawed. But then again, Joffrey never was one for logic.

Sansa stared at herself in the mirror, the girl in the reflection blinking back at her. She was such a stupid thing, Sansa thought, the girl in the mirror. Stupid and broken and battered. At one time, the girl in the mirror had thought her life was dull. At one time she had thought pimples made her perfect face ugly. What she wouldn't give to trade a blemish for a scar.

She checked her watch. Joffrey had said that she needed to be down in the casino for dinner. That always meant trouble. Sansa had seen a few of Joffrey's men coming in earlier, no doubt bringing news. One man looked particularly disgruntled as he got out of his white car, scowling furiously. And if he was scowling... Joffrey must be scowling too. A scowling Joffrey was something Sansa both feared and loathed.

She looked nice, she decided, despite the cut. She was wearing Joffrey's pearls and a flowing lavender summer dress. She felt cold in it, strangely, though the South was always warm and even then, Cersei made sure that the casino maintained a certain perfect temperature. It was probably because Sansa hadn't worn dresses in a while to hide the bruises.

She tried to do up her hair in a way that would best hide or at least draw attention away from the cut, but it was fruitless. Joffrey should see it anyway, she decided. If he didn't like the way the cuts looked, than he should stop having her beaten.

Knowing that Joffrey hated her to be late, Sansa stood, brushing herself off, her knees trembling. She ordered herself to be calm. Lannisters could sniff out weakness. They could smell fear, and they feasted on it.

Gracefully, she walked out of her room and down the hall, turning and walking down the steps, her hands clasped together in front of her, her palms sweating. Already she could see them gathered below, Joffrey, sitting on the stage where the band usually played, his mother Cersei next to him and his men standing and sitting around him. They had been talking about something, she knew. Something bad, because as soon as they caught wind of her, their voices fell into silence.

"Sansa," Cersei stood, but she was the only one. Tall, proud, and with long, beautiful blonde hair, Cersei had been Sansa's idol when she came to King's Landing. Even now she was beautiful, wearing a black blazer and a pencil skirt, the perfect picture of acute and sharp loveliness. But there was a certain poison oozing from her now, and Sansa could see the monster underneath the make-up.

"Mrs. Baratheon," Sansa said, nodding her head respectfully. She dared not use Cersei's maiden name. Not with the rumors going around that she and her brother had...

There was a swelling silence and Cersei sat. Sansa began to fidget with her hands, picking at one of her nails.

"You wanted to see me?" Her voice quivered out, and she hadn't meant to sound so frightened but she was so tired and... And she was frightened, despite herself.

Cersei looked towards Joffrey, and Sansa dared not even raise her eyes to him. She feared what she might find there.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to dinner this evening," Joffrey said in a silky voice. "The casino's just about to open, and we have a lovely little sitting area up above. Just the two of us."

Sansa felt her heart jump, and her palms were sweating but she smoothed them out against her skirt. The last thing she ever wanted was to be alone with Joffrey and she was frightened of what it meant and what he wanted. But then she remembered how much Joffrey relished her fear, and how he would know she was afraid and prey upon it. She did not want that to happen. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"I would like nothing better," she heard herself say, but her voice betrayed her.

Joffrey smiled.

"Excellent," he said, standing up and clapping his hands. "Gentlemen, you may open the casino. As for you, Sansa, you're coming with me."

He walked down the steps and offered her his arm. Sansa squirmed, in spite of herself, but she took it all the same. Joffrey's smile had all the appearance of being genuine... But Sansa knew that the smile hid a monster. She was not so naive now as to think that a smile from Joffrey meant anything.

'_He smiled at me,' _she thought as he lead her back up the stairs. '_He smiled at me and then killed my father.' _

Her arm itched on his and Sansa squirmed again. It was as though his entire body was toxic, oozing some sort of poison, inflaming her skin until it burned itchy red. She forced her hand to remain with his, when her head screamed to pull it away and push him over the railing and down into the casino, where people were already starting to pool in. The fall wouldn't be long enough, however. All she'd do would be to irritate him.

"In here," Joffrey said, opening a thick golden door and then motioning for Sansa to go inside.

It was a fairly small room, but no less lavish than the rest of the casino. Decorated in fine silk, gold and red carpets, with a great window that overlooked what was going on below. There was a table and two chairs, and Joffrey led her to sit next to him.

Sansa sat down, her saliva thick in her mouth and put her hands under her thighs so Joffrey wouldn't see them trembling. Even if she couldn't stop her fear, she could stop Joffrey from seeing it.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Joffrey asked, giving her another one of his smiles.

Sansa could only manage a weak grimace in return.

"Just you and me, alone..."

Sansa swallowed, her mouth and throat dry. She coughed daintily.

"It is," she said, smiling at him. Her smile felt so strange on her face and Sansa realized that it had been a long time since she had properly smiled, so long that a fabrication of the act felt out of place and odd.

"You look lovely," Joffrey said smoothly, his eyes lingering too long in all the wrong places. Her skin itched even more feverishly, and her heart began to sicken as she involuntarily remembered the slimy, horrible feeling of his hand sliding up her shirt...

"Thank you," she said with another cough, summoning all her courage to look him straight in the eye.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you to dinner," Joffrey said as a waiter came forward and he ordered wine for both of them. Sansa knew better than to protest, but the thought of Joffrey drunk... And what he would do when he was...

"Not at all," Sansa said as the waiter returned promptly with the drinks. "We've hardly spent any time together in the past week. I missed your company."

"You did?" Joffrey asked, taking a sip of wine.

'_No.'_

"Of course," Sansa said. "We're in love."

Joffrey's smile sliced across his face. He had enjoyed that. Good. He liked it best when she was parroting to him, saying the things he longed to hear. It made her tummy sick to do it, but it was better than being beaten, and sometimes, when she said it, she liked to think of it as her own way of being cynical. When she said things like, 'we're in love', and really meant the opposite, Sansa liked to think that she, in her small way, was mocking Joffrey and he didn't even know it.

"As it happens, I haven't missed you," Joffrey said, "but I can see that not spending time with you has been a waste. We should really do this more often."

"We should," Sansa said with a smile, pretending to sip her wine. '_Never. We should never do this ever. You should just fall off a cliff and then send me home.'_

The waiter came and laid out their silverware. Two forks, one probably for salad, and a knife. A thick, sharp stake knife. One that would cut Joffrey's heart out as though his flesh were butter. Sansa was gripped with a sudden madness to take the knife and do just that. She could see it, the blade driving in... The blood...

"Sansa? You're not listening to me," Joffrey snarled. "When I talk, I expect you to listen."

"Oh," Sansa said, snapping out of her trance, "I'm sorry. Please continue."

"I said that I have some good news," Joffrey said, looking slightly pouty, but smug non-the-less. Sansa didn't like that, Joffrey smug. It never led to good things.

"Good news?" She asked politely as the waiter brought their salads, but Joffrey waved his away, snapping that he hated salad. The waiter brought him a soup instead.

"About your sister," Joffrey said with a malicious smile.

Sansa's heart dropped. '_Dead,'_ she thought with horror, '_she's dead. Arya's dead.'_

Tears threatened to explode from her eyes but she remained unmoving.

"Arya?" Her voice cracked.

"Yes," Joffrey said, playing with his soup, "turns out the little minx isn't as clever as she thought she was. We got her in the end."

"What did you do to her?" Sansa demanded, her fingers unconsciously curling around the knife.

"Nothing, for now," Joffrey said, sounding bored. "My grandfather found her, along with her protector, on the way to the Wall."

"Protector?" Sansa repeated, frowning.

"Don't play stupid with me," Joffrey snapped. "You're already stupid enough as it is. The man your father hired to take her home."

Sansa had no knowledge of this, but for some reason a bitterness set in her heart. If that was true, than their father had sent Arya away, with someone to look out for her, while he hadn't even thought of Sansa. Arya was to go safely to Winterfell, back home to their mother and Robb and Bran and Rickon, but what of Sansa? Had he even thought of her?

"Where is she?" Sansa asked, her curiosity greater than her hurt. "Are you going to bring her back here?"

The idea, when once it would have made Sansa annoyed, filled her heart with hope. She did want Arya to be safe, but if they had caught her, well then there was nothing to be done, was there? If she was caught, then they could be together. Sansa wouldn't have to suffer in complete isolation. She could be stronger with Arya, she knew.

"No," Joffrey snapped as their soup and salad plates were taken away, "my grandfather thinks it's a good idea to keep her at Harrenhal. She has no idea that he knows who she is, and it's better that way. That way my grandfather can watch her constantly, and besides, if she thinks she's trapped, she'll just run away again, and that we can't afford."

Sansa felt her heart sink. If only she could tell Arya to run, run far away. If only she could tell her that it was a trap.

"Stupid little bitch is more trouble than she's worth," Joffrey sighed.

"Don't talk about her like that," Sansa snapped, and then she gasped aloud. Joffrey turned and looked up at her.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, darkly, "I appear to have misheard you."

Sansa opened her mouth to apologize, but found that she couldn't. She just couldn't. She was so sick of Joffrey, and sick of her life, and sick of being pushed around. She was tired of being porcelain.

"You're more trouble than you're worth too," Joffrey growled, leaning forward. "At least you're not ugly, like your little shit for a sister."

Sansa glared at him, but she held her tongue.

"I want you to say it," he said, picking up the knife and leaning over the table towards her, menacing. "Say the words."

She knew the words. _My father was a horrible bastard. My brother is a psychotic killer. My mother and younger brothers just the same. My sister a, ugly little shit that's more trouble than she's worth._ But, staring at him, even with the blade of his knife pointing at her... She couldn't say them.

Joffrey must have realized, because he dropped the knife and slapped her across the face. That's when something snapped. Something horrible and bloody and black exploded inside Sansa, and she leapt to her feet and slapped him across the face right back.

"I'll kill you for that, you little bitch!" Joffrey shrieked, grabbing the knife and snatching up a fistful of her hair, yanking her towards him as she screamed and thrashed, the table crashing over in a wave of knives and breaking glass-

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

Sansa and Joffrey both jumped and whipped around to see who had spoken. It was, to Sansa's great surprise, Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey's dwarf uncle. No, she shouldn't say dwarf, that wasn't the proper thing to say. It was little person. Sansa made a mental correction of that as she tried to get her hair from Joffrey's iron grip. Tyrion was looking absolutely furious, glaring at Joffrey with a surprising fierceness.

"Let go of her this instant!" Tyrion shouted, and Joffrey jumped again, but did as he was told. "And put that knife down before you cut yourself with it."

"Don't speak to me like a child!" Joffrey cried, pointing the knife at his uncle, who rolled his eyes.

"You're going to take out your eye with that," Tyrion sighed. "But it might improve your looks."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Joffrey snarled. "Shouldn't you be out doing... Whatever it is that you do?"

"I am here because your grandfather asked me to be here," Tyrion said. "Apparently, nephew dearest, you've been running this place to the ground."

"Renovations were necessary," Joffrey growled. "The place was looking like some sort of hunting lodge."

"Hmmm that reminds me," Tyrion said, "I noticed, on my way in, that you've really cleaned the place of your old man. I hope that was out of grief, though I suspect not."

Joffrey' face turned, if possible, a deeper shade of red. The vein in his forehead was popping out, as well as the muscles on his neck, and Sansa didn't know whether to be scared or to laugh.

"Why should I care about him? He didn't give two shits about me! Why should I care that he-"

"Died in an accident?" Tyrion said mildly, but there was a reprimand there, Sansa knew, under the indifference. "Or was it an accident? It's hard to tell these days."

"Are you suggesting-"

"Nothing," Tyrion said, waving off Joffrey's furious sputter. "Nephew please, you know how much I love my family. And I would never want to offend you, now that you're in charge. I can't imagine what would happen if I woke the lion."

He was making fun of him, that much was obvious. What was also obvious, was that Joffrey was murderously furious. Sansa wondered, for a moment, if Tyrion had taken things to far with Joffrey, but when she went to look at his face, she could see that Joffrey's uncle looked no more afraid of him than he did the pieces of lettuce on the floor. Sansa envied him.

"I think this meal has finished," Tyrion said pointedly, his eyes flicking to Sansa, and for a moment she thought she saw an empathy there. But that was ludicrous. Tyrion was a Lannister, and she would never trust a Lannister ever again. "Sansa, you must be tired."

It was the truth. She was tired. Exhausted.

"I am."

"But-"

"I think it'd be a good idea if you didn't escort her to her room, Joffrey," Tyrion snapped across his nephew's protests. "I don't want you to be tempted to scalp her again."

"She asked for it!" Joffrey cried. "She slapped me!"

"Did she?" Tyrion raised his eyebrows at Sansa. "Good for her. You most definitely deserved it. Sansa, if you would leave us."

Sansa didn't need to be asked twice. She practically ran from the room, rubbing her tingling scalp. As she passed Tyrion, she wondered if she should thank him, but instantly thought better of it. Stupid girl, what would Joffrey say? He'd scalp her then for sure, just out of spite. So instead of thanking Tyrion, Sansa ignored him.

"You can't do this!" She heard Joffrey screech as she almost ran down the hall, curving around to where her room was. She was so distracted by the sharp headache that was starting at her temple that she didn't even notice the figure coming towards her.

"Oh!" She exclaimed when she bumped into them. "Sorry I-"

"Wasn't looking?" Petyr Baelish finished for her, smiling at her with that unnerving smile of his. Sansa shifted uncomfortably. She did not know how she felt about Petyr, but something told her that she did not like him. He was a strange man. Short, and unsettling. Something about him made her want for a coat, though he had shown nothing but courtesy towards her, unlike so many others in the Red Keep.

"Err yes," Sansa said, nodding, and then making to escape to her room, but Petyr grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving.

"What's that on your cheek Miss Stark?" He asked, and Sansa wished he would let go of her arm.

"Is there something on it?" Sansa asked, feeling around, hoping that it wasn't some sort of soup that had splattered on her during Joffrey's attack.

"It's all red," Petyr said with a frown. "Did someone hit you?"

Sansa opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but Petyr seemed to have found the answer to his question, and he let go of her arm. Sansa tittered there for a moment, unsure of what to do next as the seconds stretched on for what seemed like hours. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room, but could she? It seemed like Petyr was not finished talking to her, but at the same time...

"You remind me of your mother, you know," he said after a long period of silence.

She did know. The night of the boxing match, when Arya had pulled her into the crowd, Sansa had found herself suddenly face to face with Petyr, who at that time was only known to her by his nickname, Littlefinger. He had told her then what he was telling her now, and again, she was left feeling as scattered and confused with a lingering sense of discomfort. She was not sure she wanted to hear this.

"She and I cared very deeply for each other, you know," he said, taking a piece of Sansa's hair that had fallen out and tucking it behind her ear. The pounding in her head increased.

"Yes," Sansa said, "you were like her brother."

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Petyr's face.

"Precisely," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "my fondness for her carries itself out to you, I think."

What was Sansa supposed to say to that? 'Oh that's nice but sort of creepy as well?'

"That's why I'm going to help you get out of here."

Sansa's heart leapt into her throat and she stared at him, wide eyed and not daring, not even for a second, to believe it. She would not let herself be so utterly broken.

"King's Landing is my home," she recited, but Petyr laughed.

"Do not lie to me, Miss Stark, and I will not lie to you," he said frankly. "If you stay here, they'll eat you alive."

Sansa paused a long moment, searching his face, but she found nothing.

"How?" she asked finally. Petyr smiled.

"How is not the question," he said. "It's when."

**I feel bad that you guys have to wait so long for Gendry, but does it feel better that I've written about three pages for his chapter already**


	12. Landfill

**Something I feel I must address:** **I got a complaint that if I was** **going to put so much Sansa and other characters in this fic, that I should give proper warning in the description... I can do that, and probably will do that, but I don't really understand the whole 'so much' part. Sansa has had only two chapters... And probably will only have like two more... Is this really that big of a deal? I'm only putting her in there because I have to, and I'm sorry that you're disappointed, but there are components of her story that are vital to the way Arya and Gendry's story is going to go, so there were two chapters of Sansa POV, and there will only be two more (don't hold me to that though, there might be one or or less). **

**Gendry**

"So... What's the story?"

Gendry looked up to see a pair of tits right in his face. He paused chewing his sandwich and looked up at the girl that was leaning over his table, her arm slung over her shoulder, a huge trash bag in her hand. She grinned at him. Gendry sighed internally. He should probably reply. It was the polite thing to do, and she'd go away faster that way.

"What story?" He asked warily after swallowing.

"You and Tywin," she said, smacking her gum. It was a clear day on the pier, the first he had seen in his month of being an honored guest of Harrenhal. The lake smelled especially bad as the result of the sunshine, but the sky was clear, and for the first time he could see the city and the rippling stretch of water. He had been enjoying the nice day while he caught his lunch break, but, it would appear that sky or no sky, he would not be enjoying it. "What's so special about you, hmm?"

"Who says I'm special?" Gendry asked the girl, squinting in the sun. Squinting made things easier, because he could fully block out her tits, which were doing their level best to take up his whole field of vision.

"No one has to," the girl said seductively. "It's obvious."

It was also obvious that she was eyeing him up and down.

"You must be Pia," Gendry said. She had quite the reputation. Apparently, she was the go to girl, if you knew what he meant.

"No one puts out," Hot Pie told him knowingly, "but Pia does. Do you think she'd let me lose my virginity to her if I paid her?"

"You don't have any money," Gendry had sighed into his crossed arms as he leaned over the counter. "Which is really besides the point. The fact that you are even considering-"

"Been looking for me, have you?" Pia asked, her fingers lightly dusting over his, promptly snapping him back to present time.

"Erm what?" Gendry sputtered stupidly, blinking.

"Am I distracting you?" She giggled, now running her finger alongside his hand. Gendry blinked again. He could see the appeal... But honestly. He had just met the girl. He wasn't the shagging strangers type.

"Yes, actually," he said. "I only have so long for my lunch break."

Pia snapped up, shocked. She obviously had not expected that sort of reaction. Gendry wondered if he had been a little bit too harsh. He hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings, he was just tired. So tired. What with Tywin, and his broken arm healing, and trying to stay alive. And worrying about Arya.

"Oh," Pia said, looking hurt, and then angry. "Wanker."

She stomped off, her trash bag slung over her shoulder, and Gendry watched her go regretfully. He had hurt her feelings. Damn it.

Sighing, he looked up, and straight into the absolutely livid eyes of Arya. Stupidly, he lifted his hand to wave, his lips pulling into an automatic smile... But she jerked away at once, her back to him, and started talking to that red haired girl again. Gendry let out yet another long, painful sigh. It would appear that he did not have the flare for women.

But damn it! What had he done to make Arya hate him so much? She absolutely refused to even speak to him or so much as look at him, and it wasn't fair! He had tried, he was trying, so hard with her, to look out for her, but all she ever showed him was contempt. The first day he had arrived, bandaged up and sore and worried sick about her, he had gotten out of the car, and she wasn't even waiting for him. When Tywin had walked him in, she had watched alongside the rest of them, her arms crossed and her gaze just as angry as it had been a moment ago.

He had hardly seen her since. Not without want, but because Tywin seemed dead set on keeping them apart, mainly by keeping Gendry at his side at all times. Gendry was to stick to him like a leech, and whenever he tried to creep away, Tywin would be right there, asking him a mechanical question and dragging him back to the office and away from Arya and her furious eyes.

On that end, it turned out that fairly quickly Tywin realized that Gendry was useless with roller coasters and ferris wheels. Though he seemed at first a bit irked, he quickly found other purposes for Gendry. He tried, at first, to make him his personal secretary, but that failed miserably. Then, Tywin just gave in and let Gendry work with his cars, of which he had many, all that needed repair, most of which had more than one bullet imbedded in their metal flesh. His arm healed wonderfully, thanks be to whatever was up there in the heavens, and as a result he began to work it, all in moderation of course, to get his strength back. That's when Tywin noticed he was strong.

"You used to enter in Robert's boxing matches, didn't you?" He asked Gendry before his lunch break that very day.

"Ermm," Gendry said awkwardly, "I suppose. I mean, yes. Yes I did."

"You lacked any sort of form or technique, or even any skill," Tywin said in his sharp, eternally critical voice, "but you've got strength, and that's all people seem to care about these days."

"Sorry?" Gendry asked, not really following.

"I want you to start training," Tywin said. "I want you back in the ring. My ring. Harrenhal is costing me more than I expected, and I need the revenue."

"Sir," Gendry said carefully, "I just broke my arm-"

"And I just paid to have it fixed," Tywin snarled. "Would you like it to be your neck next time? My apologies if all the money in the world can't fix _that_."

Sighing, Gendry crunched up all his left over paper from lunch and shoved it in the trash, pulling himself to his feet. It had been a fucking horrible day, but he was getting used to fucking horrible days. He couldn't remember when he had had a good day. He barely remembered what a good day was. That was pathetic, but then again, so was his life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the red haired girl and Arya were shuffling off for their lunch break. He wasn't in the mood to follow them, and receive more of Arya's unfounded contempt, so he walked to the edge of the pier and looked out over the lake for a while, letting the wind ruffle and tousle his hair.

After about ten minutes, he saw that the pickers were filing back out to get to work, so he made his way back to the restaurant. The wind was starting to act up again, and he could see the clouds rolling in as he shoved his hands in his pockets. The beauty of the day was dulling away, as it always did, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of uselessness. It would be better when he got his hands on another car, and could lose himself, but more often than not, Gendry felt himself sitting and staring at his helmet, thinking of the motorcycle he had left behind and everything else that had come with it.

As he approached the restaurant, there was a shout, and then a crash, and then a yell. Arya's yell.

Gendry burst in the restaurant just as Wheeze grabbed a fistful of Arya's hair as she tried to run away, an apple tart in her hand, her mouth open in a scream. Behind the counter Hot Pie was roaring in pain, writhing on the ground.

"LET HER GO!" Gendry roared, grabbing Wheeze's throat and slamming him into the counter.

"You stay out of it!" Arya shouted, trying to pry Gendry away from Wheeze while rubbing her head at the same time.

"What did you do to them?" Gendry shouted. "Keep your fucking hands off them!"

"I didn't do nothing!" Wheeze gasped, turning purple. "It was her!"

"You liar!" Gendry roared as Wheeze's fingers clawed at his, trying to wrench them away from his throat. "I saw you attack her!"

"Only because she attacked me!" Hot Pie shrieked. "She punched me in the face!"

Gendry dropped Wheeze in shock and spun around to face Arya, who was glaring at him. What a surprise.

"Wha-?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Tywin asked coldly, the door banging closed behind him and issuing a ringing, confused silence. He glared at them all, and Gendry shot a look at Arya, whose face looked surprisingly blank. He wondered... Should he lie to protect her?

"It was me," she said mildly. "I wanted Hot Pie to pinch me a tart, but he said he'd get into trouble. I told him that if he looked the other way, I'd steal it, but he didn't like that either. So I punched him in the face and took it."

She shrugged.

"I caught her," Wheeze gasped, massaging his throat. "But that crazy son of a bitch attacked me."

"You caught her by her hair!" Gendry shouted, feeling extremely irked. This time it was he who glared at Arya, not the other way around. What on earth would possess her to do something like that?

"I'm starving," she said to Tywin. "We're all starving. I punched Hot Pie so he wouldn't get in trouble."

"Gee thanks a lot," Hot Pie said, holding his nose, which was bleeding.

"I figured that, if I hit him than there was no possible way he could have prevented me from stealing it," she said, still very matter-of-fact, "so there would be no way to punish him."

There was a long, strained silence. Gendry could hear Hot Pie's choking noises in the background as he attempted to mop up the blood draining from his nose, and also the weird, gasping noises Wheeze was making as he endeavored to regain his breath, but it was Tywin that Gendry was looking at. Tywin who he watched with baited breath, as the older man looked Arya dead in the eye with no expression at all. That was the most unnerving thing about it. Gendry couldn't tell what Tywin was thinking. He could be thinking anything, each as bad as the next.

But then... Then Tywin did something Gendry had never seen him do. He smiled.

"You're clever," he said to Arya, "aren't you?"

She shrugged indifferently, but for a flash of a second, there was something, maybe about her eyes, that told Gendry that she was scared. Maybe not a lot, but she was. At least she knew, somewhere internally, that Tywin Lannister was a man to be feared, and that if you had any sense, you'd listen to that fear. But Arya... Well she wouldn't be Arya if she wasn't stubborn. Even if she felt the instinct to be afraid, she shrugged it off and stared right back at Tywin with ease.

She shrugged.

"No need for false modesty," Tywin said, which was basically the nicest thing Gendry had ever heard the older man say. "I bet you can read, and do math. You've been to school too, I'd wager."

Again Arya shrugged.

"How did you do in school?" Tywin wanted to know. Gendry frowned. Why was Tywin so interested in Arya? He didn't suspect... Did he?

"I did alright," Arya said simply, "when I did my work."

Tywin chuckled.

"Hmm," he said, giving her a long look, "how would you like to be my assistant?"

This surprised Arya, and it certainly shocked Gendry. For a moment, a split second, in her surprise Arya forgot herself, forgot her anger towards Gendry, and she looked at him, as if searching for an answer. He shrugged, and then she seemed to remember that she was mad at him and she looked away quickly, a scowl on her face.

"I..." Arya looked like she was thinking very quickly. "I... I don't think I'm suited for the job, sir."

Tywin laughed.

"You're suited better than any of these other worthless sods," he said, his icy eyes boring into Arya.

"Gee thanks," Gendry mumbled under his breath.

"You can read, you can do math, and you're clever," Tywin said. "This isn't a request, girl. I'm making you my assistant. You can start tomorrow."

Arya again shot a look at Gendry. This one was of pleading confusion. '_She still needs me,' _Gendry thought. '_Even though she doesn't want to.'_

"What's your name?" Tywin demanded.

"Nan," Arya said, twitching slightly at the lie. "Short for Nymeria."

"An unusual name," Tywin said.

"That's why I go by Nan," Arya said sharply, causing Gendry to wince. Couldn't she just, for once, play by the rules? Apparently not. "So people don't mess it up."

"I think I'll call you Nymeria," Tywin said, his lip twitching slightly. "You'll just have to forgive me if I mess it up from time to time."

There was a moment of swelling silence, and then Tywin frowned, as if pleased with the way things had gone, and he turned and left, leaving everyone to gape after him. After the door swung shut, there was a moment of silence.

"What the fuck Arry?" Hot Pie swore loudly, clutching his nose.

"Oh shut up," Arya snarled. "You have all you can eat here. Look at you, with your fucking apple tarts. It isn't fair!"

"So you punched him in the face," Gendry snapped, thoroughly fed up with Arya's attitude. "Brilliant logic there. Really mature."

"You can go fuck yourself!" Arya shouted, rounding on Gendry with a surprising amount of rage. "Don't go around pretending that you care about me because you don't! You don't!"

"Well that escalated quickly," Hot Pie muttered, holding a napkin to his nose.

"What?" Gendry snapped back indignantly. "That's not true! I care, all right?"

"Bullshit," Arya yelled. "BULL. SHIT. Ever since you showed up here you've completely ignored me. You were supposed to be my friend!"

"Friend?" Gendry shouted, his temper getting the better of him. "I was never your friend!"

There was no denying the look of total and utter hurt that crashed across Arya's face. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's, and to Gendry's horror he saw that there were tears pooling in her eyes. But he hadn't meant it like that! He was happy to be her friend, but she had never let him. She had never let him even be her protector.

"Shit Arya, I never meant-"

"It's NAN!" She screamed at him. "And you know what? You're right. We're not friends, so don't talk to me, got that? Don't talk to me ever again."

"Ary- Nan," Gendry said, reaching out to grab her arm, but she wrenched away from him and stormed out of the restaurant, banging the door open with such force that the already cracked glass of the window shattered. "WAIT! WAIT!"

But it was too late. She was already gone, disappeared behind the tangled of rides and stands.

"Fuck!" Gendry swore loudly, kicking a chair.

"Nice one," Hot Pie said, leaning his head back. "You know nothing about women."

"You know what?" Gendry snapped in total irritation. "I'm starting to think you deserved that punch."

And with that he stormed out of the restaurant too.

**Sorry about the slow updates for this story. It's going to be pretty slow going with this one, I'm afraid. School has just started, and I'm super stressed out, and... Sigh. I just don't really know. I have a very love-hate relationship with this fic, sometimes I think it's great, while others I just don't even want to write it anymore. Nerghhh (don't worry, I'll keep updating. I'm not a jerk, I'm just slightly stressed out)**


	13. Beat the Devil's Tattoo

**Sorry about not updating, but I had SUCH writers block on this story. But this chapter's a long one!**

**Arya**

"So what are you wearing, Ygritte?" Pia asked, laying across their sleeping bags as Arya and Ygritte sat next to each other, playing a game of solitaire. Ygritte took a long drag from her cigarette and then removed it from her lips with two fingers, thoroughly uninterested in whatever Pia had to say.

"What I'm wearing now, I expect," she said with a yawn.

"Then you're going?" Pia asked, poking Ygritte in the knee. Ygritte gave her a bored look.

"Yes I'm going," she snapped irritably. "Two months stuck on this fucking pier? Of course I'm going. I need to get out."

"There'll be men there," Pia said, wriggling her eyebrows.

"There are men here," Ygritte said drily. "What is it with you and sex?"

"Helps pass the time," Pia said with a shrug. Her eyes flicked to Arya. "What about you Weasel?"

Weasel. Just another nice nickname that Pia had given Arya. Arya did not like Pia, and Pia's flirting with Gendry hadn't exactly helped warm Arya's heart towards the older girl. She just hated even thinking about the way Pia had leaned over Gendry. It was disgusting. What was worse, he had liked it, she was sure. He was a man. How could he not?

"I'm not going," Arya snapped, making her move.

"It's just as well," Pia said flippantly. "It's not really for children."

Arya debated the consequences of reaching over and taking Ygritte's beer to pour on Pia's head. It would be a waste of cheap beer.

"You're not going?" Ygritte was surprised. "But I thought Gendry was your friend. Don't you want to see him in the ring?"

"He's not my friend," Arya said firmly, feeling her stomach flare just to even think about him.

"What would he want with a skinny little thing like you anyway?" Pia asked with a yawn, rolling onto her back.

"I thought you weren't on for him," Ygritte said silkily, giving Arya a wink. "I thought you said he could go fuck himself."

"He can," Pia said loftily, "but there's no telling how I will feel when he's all sweaty and masculine and-"

"I just ate," Arya snarled, thoroughly annoyed. Pia flipped her off.

"What's the matter?" She asked, flipping back onto her stomach. "Does Weasel have a crush?"

"I DO NOT!" Arya roared, mortified. A crush? On Gendry? That was so wrong on so many levels. Besides, she hated him!

"Ooooh ho ho!" Pia crooned. "She's blushing! You do! You have a little crush!"

"I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH!" Arya shouted, ready to strangle Pia, who was making kissing faces.

"I bet you've had a look at those arms," Pia said, grinning. "Imagined them around you? And I bet... Oh I bet you're a virgin too!"

Arya could feel hot tears of embarrassment flare to her eyes. She could kill Pia, if it wouldn't get her into trouble. She hated her for making her feel so stupid. Sansa used to do that, but she was her sister. It was different. This was much worse.

"Shut it Pia," Ygritte said sharply. "He doesn't want to shag you anyway."

"It'd probably be me over her though, don't you think Weasel? I mean, you're hardly a girl at all," Pia said, laughing.

"You shut your face!" Arya cried.

"Aww," Pia mocked, making puppy eyes. "Is the Weasel sad?"

"Shut up Pia!" Ygritte barked sharply. "That's enough, and I mean it. Leave her alone."

Pia rolled her eyes and scooted off their sleeping bags, snagging a beer before she trotted off to her bed. Arya glared after her, pulling her sweatshirt up around her shoulders. It was a cold night, and Ygritte was letting her share her sleeping bag. She did that now, and it was nice, in a way. Even if Arya couldn't sleep, it was nice to have someone there. It was nice to not feel so alone.

"Ignore her," Ygritte said, collecting up their cards. "She's just being a bitch because she's jealous."

"Jealous?" Arya said with a laugh, wriggling down in the sleeping bag. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not," Ygritte said with a frown. "It's obvious he couldn't give a fig about her. The only one he cares about is you."

'_That's only because he has to. It's his job.'_

"That's stupid. He doesn't care about me," Arya sighed darkly.

"Yes he does," Ygritte said, wriggling down next to her, her wild hair springing up around them. "Whenever I see him, he's always looking at you."

Arya felt a pang in her stomach but she shook it off. She was not about to forgive Gendry. Not ever. He could rot in hell for all she cared. So what if he felt bad? He should feel bad! He should feel guilty. It wasn't her fault that he was a total twat.

"You should go tomorrow, Arya," Ygritte whispered in her ear. "To keep Pia away."

"They deserve each other," Arya snapped, but Ygritte chuckled.

"You don't believe that."

She didn't, but it was nice to pretend. It was nice to pretend she was above it all and didn't care a wit, but... Well it wasn't true, was it? She hated the idea of them together. Stupid Pia with her boobs and her flowing hair. Arya's hair was still short, slowly crawling past her ears, but no more. Once more, she hardly needed to bind down her breasts. No one had even asked her if she needed a bra. Pia was right. She was hardly a girl at all.

The sun rose early that morning, or maybe Arya had actually slept that night, she couldn't be certain. One moment she had closed her eyes, seemingly only for a second, and then she was opening them again to sunlight instead of darkness. She pulled herself from the sleeping bag and went to look out over the lake. The fog was thick that morning, so thick it felt like she was standing on the edge of the world, with only a dense, brilliant white in front of her.

"Today's the day!" Pia sang from within.

"Boxing day!" One of the girls giggled.

"Otherwise known as hell," Arya muttered under her breath darkly, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

The infamous boxing match. How she loathed the very idea. Stupid Gendry and his stupidity. Of course, _of course_ he would agree to a boxing match. He probably loved the attention he would get. Tywin had even made the event open so everyone could go, as it was to be held in an underground basement in the city (not far from the pier, of course, and they were to be heavily supervised as well). Even if the entrance fee was deducted from their final pay, no one seemed to care. It was the most exciting thing that had happened in months, they said. No one wanted to miss it. No one expect Arya, that was.

"Come on grumpy," Ygritte said, yanking Arya back inside. "You were just bluffing last night, right? You'll come with me."

"No," Arya said firmly. The last thing she wanted to see was empty headed girls fawning over Gendry. "No way. I'd rather stay here and catch up on some sleep."

"No one's staying here!" Pia said. "NO-ONE! Not even Tywin!"

"Well I am," Arya said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not in the mood to see some stupid asshole get his face pounded in."

"I don't think you can stay, even if you want to," Ygritte said with a frown. "Unsupervised? Forget it."

"I'll ask Tywin today then," Arya snapped grumpily. "I should get going anyway, he hates me to be late."

"Don't forget to smile!" Ygritte called after her.

"Hardy har har," Arya grumbled under her breath, zipping up her sweatshirt. It was cold that morning, as it always was, and the pier was banked with fog, cold winds blowing across the ground and ruffling Arya's exposed bangs. Her cheeks felt raw and she stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. She didn't mind the cold so much, though. It was almost nice. It was something else to think about other than all the thoughts that were cluttered around in her mind. A distraction.

She opened the door of the offices only to find that the heat hadn't been turned on. Wheeze sat at one of the desks, snoring. Arya looked over towards Tywin's office to find that he was absent. That was odd. Tywin was usually there early.

"Hey Wheeze!" Arya barked, causing Wheeze to inhale a good deal of drool and jump in his chair. "Where's Tywin?"

"In the garage, I expect," Wheeze snapped grumpily. "He wants you to take those papers to him. You're late."

"And you're worthless," Arya snapped, sweeping up the papers on her desk. "Life sucks and then you die."

She strode out of the office quickly, ignoring Wheeze's shouted insults, and slammed the door behind her. The garage was a short walk, down at the beginning of the pier, but she didn't want to make the effort. Gendry would be in the garage, and she didn't want to see him more than she had to. Especially not today.

She pushed open the door and sighed. It was warm in the garage, and it smelled of metal and gasoline. It was dirty there, but not the sort of dirty that seemed to cover the entire pier. It fit here. The sparks, and the loud music and the grease. Arya hadn't spent much time in the garage, due to her determination to ignore Gendry, but, even though she didn't want to admit it, she rather liked the garage.

She poked around the cars, looking for Tywin, but he was no where to be found. Was anyone even there anyway-?

Arya let out a yell as her foot caught on something and she went sprawling, paper splaying out in waves. She shot her hands out just in time so that she wouldn't smack her face on the ground.

"Oi!" A familiar voice yelled. "Watch where you're-Oh. Arya."

She whipped around, red-faced and glaring, utterly humiliated. Of course it would be Gendry's feet that she would trip over, damn him. He pushed himself out from under the car and gave her a look of sheepishness. '_He's probably remembering telling me we're not friends.' _Arya opened her mouth to say something horrible to him, but she stopped, because her eyes, damn them, had noticed that his shirt was missing in action. And he was covered in sweat. Which was disgusting. Obviously.

"What?" He asked. "You're... You're not still upset, are you? Because I didn't mean-"

"What kind of idiot lays in the middle of the walkway with his legs sprawled out?" Arya snarled, snatching up her papers. "I could have seriously hurt myself, asshole."

"Well maybe you should look where you're going!" Gendry snapped right back, scowling at her.

"I wouldn't need to look where I'm going if you didn't leave your feet in hazardous places!" Arya said, glaring at him.

"This is my garage! If you had just looked where you were going-"

"It's not your garage, it's Tywin's," Arya said in an annoying voice.

"Why are you here anyway?" Gendry demanded, scowling. "Obviously you're not here to see me."

"Why do you think I'm here?" Arya said, waving the paper's in Gendry's face. "To give Tywin these, dumbass."

"Well that's too bad because he just went back to the office a few minutes ago," Gendry said, unapologetically, sliding back under the car.

"Seriously?" Arya said with a huff, already hating the day, and she hadn't even had breakfast. She wrenched herself to her feet, brushing ash and dust off her jacket, papers still in hand. Throwing Gendry one last, annoyed look, she turned on her heel.

"See you tonight," Gendry called, his voice muffled.

"No you won't!" Arya roared back, storming out of the garage and slamming the door behind her with force, just for extra effect. She was not going. No way in hell.

"You're going," Tywin said firmly.

"But I have so much work here," Arya protested feebly.

"No," Tywin snapped. "You're going, and if you argue, I'll cut your meal privileges."

"But-"

Tywin's glare was so severe that Arya felt her argument die in her throat. Damn her life. She was so miserable she could cry. She did not want to go to Gendry's stupid little match. He had just broken his arm, what was he doing going back in the ring? He was so stupid! He just couldn't stay out of the spotlight, could he?

Her work for the day concluded early, so Arya went to take a shower. Water was regulated, and it was always freezing, so she had to always run in and out of the spray of water, hopping from foot to foot, her skin burning from the icy cold. Today was no different. She grabbed the bar of soap, rubbed it all over her body and through her hair, and then rinsed off, shuttering. Since everyone was still at work, she was alone in the shower room. It was rare, for Arya to be completely alone, and as she wrapped a dirty towel around herself, she went to the mirror.

It had been a long time since she had looked at herself. The change was staggering. She had always been skinny, but now it was much worse. Her cheeks were gaunt, and there were hollows under her eyes. Her arms were small, and... Well she had never had much of a chest, but... Well certainly at one point she had _had_ to have more then that, right? Her hair was a mess too, growing out in tangles and falling into her face. '_No wonder Gendry never looks at you like he looks at Pia.'_

Arya glared at herself in the mirror. Where had _that _come from? Not from her. She didn't care who Gendry looked at. It was probably just because she was so tired. She hadn't been thinking straight for a while, and the occasional cigarette from Ygritte probably wasn't helping. Did cigarettes have an effect on the brain? She was too tired to think about it.

"I just want some decent sleep," Arya said to her reflection. "Is that too much to ask?"

Sighing, she slithered into her dirty t-shirt and yanked on her baggy jeans. Now she looked no different than before, and she hardly smelled better either. All that she had to say for her shower was her wet hair.

She walked back to the fun house thoroughly low. But if Arya was unhappy, that was the exact opposite of how everyone else felt. All the boys were laughing and talking about the girls, and when she climbed up the stairs, all the girls were giggling and talking about the boys. Or boy. Gendry seemed to be all they talked about.

"I hear he's fit as fuck," one girl said, curling her lashes.

"Oh he is," Pia said, taking a sip of beer. "Just you wait."

"Arya!" Ygritte called, waving Arya over. "Still grumpy?"

Arya sunk down next to her, not answering. She didn't feel like talking. She was tired, but on top of that, she didn't feel like herself anymore. Quiet and allowing people to push her around. The Arya Stark she knew would never let Pia call her Weasel, or let Tywin walk around as free as he pleased. The Arya Stark she knew wasn't a mouse, she was a wolf.

"You're not wearing that," Ygritte said firmly. "Here, you need a new shirt."

Ygritte dug around her bag and then pulled out a knit shirt and a tank top to wear under it. She handed it to Arya.

"This should fit you," she said distractedly. "Put it on. Keep it if you like."

Reluctantly, Arya pulled off her dirty shirt and put on the tank top, and then the knit shirt over it.

"Much better," Ygritte said. "I snagged some eyeliner from Pia. No sense in not using it."

Obediently, Arya closed her eyes and let Ygritte run the eyeliner over her lids. For a fleeting second, she was reminded of Sansa, when they were younger, and she had tried to do Arya's make-up. It was a totally disaster, and Arya had cried. Sansa had cried too, actually, because Arya hadn't liked it.

"There," Ygritte said, drawing back and looking pleased with herself. "Now let Pia call you hardly a girl."

"You didn't have to do that," Arya said. "I didn't mind. She'll just come up with something else."

"Don't let her," Ygritte said firmly. "You've got fire, Nan, but you don't use it."

"You sound like a fortune cookie," Arya said, raising her eyebrows. Ygritte laughed.

"C'mon," she said, helping Arya to her feet. "Might as well get this over with."

They all crowded out of the fun house and walked down the pier, one huge, loud and obnoxious group. Most of the people were drunk, Pia certainly was, laughing and whooping and shouting at one another. Arya watched as Tywin's men circled n the outskirts, making sure no one tried any funny business. There was Chiswyke, who, when he spotted her, sent shivers down her spine. Arya had heard things about Chiswyke, nasty things, horrible things. Things that made her infinitely glad that Gendry had stepped in that evening when the bus had broken down.

The crowds were thick when they got into the city, everyone crowding around the entrance to where the match was being held. Tywin had spread the word well. He would be making lots of money that night.

"Come on Nan!" Ygritte shouted, grinning, ushering Arya to follow her. Arya took steps after her, looking to the side.

And then she gasped aloud.

There, in the thick of the people was the man with the accent. The man she had saved from the burning car. He was one of Tywin's men now, the lion stitched into his leather jacket. And he was staring right at her.

Before Arya could even move or scream, he grabbed her from the crowd and wrenched her off to the side, his hand instantly covering her mouth as she struggled.

"A girl keeps quiet," he hissed, "a girl does not say a word, and a man will keep quiet as well so they can talk as friends, no?"

He removed his hand from her mouth.

"You traitor!" Arya cried, but no one would have heard her, not with all the mayhem. "You work for Tywin now! For the Lannisters!"

"As does a girl," he pointed out. "How is it that it is different for her? Hmm?"

Arya glared.

"I saved your life!" She said angrily. "And you ran away! You could have helped us!"

He nodded, as if pondering what she was saying.

"You stole a life from the red god," he said slowly.

"Stole from... The red god? Are you high?" Arya snapped, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"The red god," the man said with a snap. "A man is not from here, a man worships gods that are, perhaps, different?"

"Oh," Arya said, not understanding in the least.

"The debt must be repaid," the man said seriously. "I owe you a death."

"A death?" Arya repeated, not sure she followed.

"A death for my life," he explained. "To set the balance."

"You mean... I chose someone..."

"And they die."

"Anyone?" There was a certain adrenaline rushing through Arya's veins. All the names... All the people... All at her mercy.

"Anyone."

"Who says I want anyone dead?" Arya demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. The man chuckled.

"A man knows," he said enigmatically.

"Nan! NAN!"

Arya whipped her head around to see Ygritte pushing through the crowd. She looked back to say something to the mysterious man, but he was gone. Vanished into thin air. As though he was never there at all.

"Not trying to run away are you?" Ygritte asked forcefully.

"No," Arya said at once as Ygritte began to pull her through the crowd. "But... But say I did, want to run away I mean-"

"Stop," Ygritte said harshly, whipping around and staring Arya right in the face. "Not here, and not now, got that? Not when their watching so close, just waiting for someone like you to try... Do you want to end up on the wrong end of that pier?"

"No," Arya said.

"Then keep your mouth shut," Ygritte snarled. "And come on."

Ygritte yanked Arya by her arm through the crowd and into the building. They descended down a long set of stairs and into a poorly lit and massive basement. It reminded Arya a good deal of the Pit, expect less sophisticated, and dirtier. It stank of sweat and blood and alcohol and piss. She wrinkled her nose.

"Fight's about to start!" Ygritte shouted over her shoulder as they wove through the thick mass of people. Arya could see glimpses of the ring, as they were jostled about, but no Gendry. Could it be that he had finally come to his senses and decided to forfeit the fight?

No.

As Ygritte pulled Arya upside the ring, Gendry was clearly there, shirtless of course, and looking sullen. '_What's the matter?'_ Arya thought moodily. '_Not enough attention for you?'_

Out of no where Tywin appeared, and he walked up to Gendry, saying something in his ear, his hand gripping his shoulder. Gendry's eyes flashed and his fingers curled into fists, and Arya wondered, for a split second, what Tywin could have said to make him look so angry. Could it be... Could it be that he didn't even want to fight in the first place? But that was stupid. If Gendry didn't want to fight, Tywin wouldn't make him, would he? Not his perfect Gendry. Not his favorite. And besides, if Gendry didn't want to do something, he didn't. He was stubborn.

There was something, someone was saying something, but of course Arya couldn't hear, and then suddenly the fight was starting. Girls, probably Pia, were screaming as Gendry went fist to fist with some huge, hulking brawn of a man, even bigger than he was.

At first, it was going well. Gendry threw a few shots, a few good punches, and Ygritte and (against her will) Arya cheered. But then... Then it took a turn for the worse. The other man hit Gendry, right in his bad arm, and he went crashing down, his teeth gritted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut.

The man took a step towards, him, lifted his foot, and brought it crashing down on Gendry's arm.

The entire crowd gasped and screamed, and then cheered. Nothing like a good fight. But Arya was paralyzed. She couldn't even breath as Gendry tried to drag himself to his feet, only to be punched in the face. It didn't stop there. The other man was hitting him again, and again and again...

"NAN!" Ygritte shouted, but Arya didn't hear her. She was tearing through the crowd, blinded by some sort of madness, possessed, and then she was leaping into the ring, running at the man that was at least three times her size, screaming.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Before the other man could even register what was going on, Arya kicked him in the back of the knee, hard. As he went crashing forward, she stomped on his ankle with all her might, causing him to roar in pain and rage.

"You little bitch!" He roared. "WHO LET THIS BITCH IN HERE?"

He made to grab for her, but Arya punched him in the throat, and his eyes went wide, his hands clutching at his neck. She grabbed his air and brought his head down while slamming her knee upwards, sending him sprawling.

"Arya-"

She whipped around, seeing Gendry try to pull himself to his feet, but she reached back and then punched him in the face.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Gendry roared, his lip split.

Suddenly, all Arya could see was red. A mad, blindly mad, rage overtook her, and suddenly she was on top of Gendry, slapping him and beating at his chest wildly.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LOOK AFTER ME!" She screamed. "But you failed! You failed because they're dead! They're all dead!"

The entire crowd was rippling with confusion, but Arya could barely see or care. White, hot and angry tears scratched at her eyes and her throat as she beat at Gendry, each blow becoming more and more frenzied.

"Stop!" Gendry cried. "Stop! Arya-"

He grabbed both her wrists in one large hand and then, struggling to his feet as she tried to get away, he released her hands, just for a second, and then yanked her around the middle, throwing her over his shoulder, and then they were climbing out of the ring and pushing through the crowd, Tywin shouting abuse after them. But it was all a blur.

And then there was silence. Arya felt the world shift, and suddenly she was on unsteady feet, and Gendry's face was very close, swimming in front of her eyes. He was shouting at her, too.

"What was that all about?" He roared. "You could have seriously been hurt, and now Tywin- Do you know what he'll do to you?"

Arya shook her head. She wished he would stop.

"How could you be so-"

"Would you go?" She suddenly shouted. Gendry blinked.

"What?" He sputtered.

"Would you go?" She asked. "If I left, would you go with me?"

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, Arya blinking tears from her eyes, her face sticky. The only expression Gendry wore was utter shock.

"What... Are you serious?"

She nodded.

"Yes," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and looking straight into her eyes. "Yes."

**Quick note: I was alerted last night that some of my stories had been plagiarized, literally word for word, by an author for a different fandom. While this one was used, but not so blatantly, I felt like it was essential that I address this here. They have since taken the stories down at my request, but they had to have read them. Please guys, enjoy my stories but don't steal my work. I love writing for you and it hurts me that one of you would use me in such a way.**


	14. Kill of the Night

**Sorry guys for the gap in updating! School just started up again for me, and I'm incredibly busy!**

**Arya**

"We have to take Hot Pie," Gendry hissed softly as they sat crouched between two cars in the garage, voices hushed. Arya glared. He had been pushing this for days now, and she was seriously considering just leaving without him. But... Well she needed him, didn't she? She might have been able to handle herself just fine, Arya knew that, but she also knew that there was strength in numbers, and it didn't hurt if the numbers included a good deal of muscle too.

"Why?" She snapped irritably. "He'll just slow us down."

"I know," he whispered back, "but he's... He's part of the team. We can't leave him."

"The team?" Arya said with a raised eyebrow. "What team?"

"Well," Gendry said, looking a bit thrown, "there's you and me..."

Arya felt her cheeks flare unexpectedly and her heart soared, jumping against her chest violently.

"We are _not_ a team," she snarled under her breath.

"Then why did you invite me along?" Gendry demanded in low tones. "Ever since you've been irritated with me."

"That's because you're irritating," Arya said with a snap. "I invited you along because there's strength in numbers, that's why. And besides, do you want to end up on the wrong end of the pier?"

Gendry shook his head gravely.

"Also," Arya said, pushing her hair out of her eyes with an annoyed huff, "I knew you'd want to tag along anyway, wouldn't you? You and your stupid job."

"Oh," Gendry said, and to Arya's surprise he looked almost a bit wounded. "Right."

Arya blinked, frowning slightly. There was a feeling of guilt that jabbed at her stomach that she didn't like. Why should she feel guilty? She'd done nothing wrong.

"Hot Pie is a no go," she said firmly.

"If he doesn't go, then I don't go," Gendry snarled, bypassing hurt and instead displaying that stupid look of stubbornness on his face. Arya scowled. Stupid bull boy. Now she was really tempted to leave him behind.

"Fine," she relented angrily. "He can come, but if he slows us down, we're leaving him behind."

She pulled herself to her feet before he could argue, and then brushed herself off. They only had five minutes to talk everyday, during Arya's bathroom breaks. She had to go, so as not to arouse Tywin's suspicion. She made sure, however, to show publicly that she still greatly disliked Gendry. It wasn't all that difficult.

A Man was. She didn't know his name, but he always referred to himself as 'A Man' in broken English, and so that was what she had called him, in her head anyway. She hadn't spoken to him since that night before the match, and now every time she saw him... He was like a ghost. There one minute, gone the next. A shadow. How did one catch a shadow?

The winds were harsh, and they seemed to scream and cry as they railed against and tangled through the creaking old rides. Harrenhal had transformed since she'd been there, but, no matter what Tywin did... It would never be a beautiful amusement park. You just could make ugly things beautiful using ugliness.

"You're late," Tywin said when she came in. "And you didn't go to the bathroom. You went to the garage."

Arya stopped and looked at him, but he didn't glance up from his morning paper. She wondered if that should frighten her more.

"There are some things I had to discuss with him," she said flatly, looking straight at Tywin's eyes, cast downwards. '_He knows I'm watching,' _she thought as she watched his eyes cease to move about the page. '_He knows I'm not afraid.' _

Tywin's eyes were cold and searing, but they were also impressed, in spite of themselves.

"Yes," he said smoothly, setting down his paper and folding it neatly. "I would hope so. After that little indiscretion in the ring."

"He looked after me," Arya said plainly, her eyes never leaving Tywin's. "I owe him a great deal."

"But just how much?" Tywin asked, and she knew that this was not a light question. He was testing her.

"An explanation," she said shortly. "About what happened in the ring."

"What did happen in the ring?" Tywin pressed coldly.

"Nothing," Arya said, her heart beating wildly, and yet she remained completely calm. Tywin's eyes flashed.

"Is that what you told him?" He asked casually, reaching for his cup of coffee and then taking a sip.

There was a pause and she knew. She knew what he was asking. Somehow, in the only way that Tywin could, he had found her out. No, if he had found her out, he wouldn't be asking. He suspected. He suspected that they were planning to run away. He was asking her if they were planning something.

"Yes," Arya said. "That's what I told him."

Tywin gave her a long, hard look. She did not flinch. She did not look away.

"Do you know what happens when the tide goes down?" He asked her casually, and Arya felt her stomach twist.

"Yes," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "It rises again."

There was a pause, and then Tywin shifted and laughed. He chuckled, but it wasn't really a chuckle. It was cold and mirthless. '_He doesn't find me amusing in the least,' _Arya knew, '_but I'm clever, and I'm not afraid of him, and he likes that.' _She swallowed hard.

"Go finish your work," he said firmly. "But next time you need to go to the bathroom, don't make a detour to the garage. I'll be watching, _Nymeria._"

Arya felt ice rush down her spine, and for the rest of the day, she remained firmly at her desk and did not move.

Tywin's orders to stay away from Gendry would prove annoying, and a bit of a set back, but she was confident that they could go about their plan anyway. She didn't need to go to the garage to communicate with him. She'd already anticipated this reaction from Tywin. She knew he wasn't stupid, but she also knew he wasn't God. There were ways to even cheat his system, and she was going to do it. She wasn't going to end up with cement tied around her ankles.

"But how?" Gendry had asked her a few days ago when they sat hidden behind the carousal, one of their meeting places.

"The sewers," Arya had said with conviction. It was the only thing Tywin hadn't made sure to block off. "We go down in a manhole and we follow the flow of water until it runs out into the Trident, the river on the opposite side of the city."

"What's so special about the Trident?" Gendry wanted to know, his face curling at the idea of spending possible days in the city's sewers.

"It's where Robb is," Arya whispered in a hushed voice. "I listened in on one of Tywin's private calls. That's where Robb is currently hiding out, at Riverrun. If we get to him, he'll keep us safe."

"If Tywin knows where he is, then why hasn't he gone after him?" Gendry wanted to know.

"It's too dangerous," Arya said, feeling a sense of smugness tickle at the pit of her stomach. "He knows he'd be dead in a minute if he went anywhere near the Trident. It's only a matter of time before Robb moves this way, and when he does, Tywin better run."

Gendry frowned and gave her a queer look.

"What is there for me in Riverrun?" He had asked gruffly, picking at the bit of paint on the back of the carousal.

"I don't know," Arya had snapped. "Your big fat paycheck?"

He hadn't said anything, or even looked at her, but Arya had seen his eyes flash a furious color and the muscles in his jaw had jumped. '_But he agreed to go all the same', _Arya reminded herself now, '_sewers and everything.'_

Why was she being so awful to him anyway? Maybe it was because that was what she did. She was mean to people. Maybe that's why Pia and all the rest would look at her with disgusted eyes. '_I didn't use to be like this,' _Arya thought to herself as she filed some paper for Tywin. '_I used to have plenty of friends.' _She tried to remember them, but their faces all blurred together in her mind until they flickered into her fathers. She slammed the filing cabinet shut, her hands suddenly shaking.

"I am seriously loosing it," she mumbled under her breath. She needed to get out of there. And fast.

As Tywin signaled closing time, she slipped out of the office quickly, avoiding him, and then started down the pier towards the fun house. Ygritte and the others would still be working, but she didn't mind being alone. It helped her to plan.

Just as she was about to enter the fun house, out of no where a hand shot out and grabbed her, spinning her out of sight and slamming her against the side of the fun house. Her scream was crushed silence by a hand covering her mouth. A Man's hand.

"A Man apologizes," he said, letting her go. Arya rubbed the back of her head.

"Oww," she muttered, annoyed.

"A Man is waiting for an answer," he said in a hushed voice. "A Girl must decide who lives and who dies."

Arya took a deep breath.

"Wheeze," she said, and A Man grinned. "And Chiswyke."

The grin slid off his face.

"This A Man cannot do," he said, "this was not our bargain."

"Well I'm changing our bargain," Arya said firmly. "It needs to be Wheeze and Chiswyke."

"A Man offered to set the balance," he said just as firmly. "One life in the place of mine that was stolen. That was the deal. A Man cannot set the balance only to upset it again."

"Well then A Man can go kill himself!" Arya cried in annoyance. She was starting to panic. It had to be Wheeze and Chiswyke, or else they'd never be able to escape. Wheeze sat in the office and watched to make sure no one went by, and then Chiswyke sat in the toll booth. The nearest man hole was two feet from his perch. They would not be able to sneak past both of them unseen.

"A Man will keep to the bargain," he said, and his tone left no room for argument. "Wheeze will set the balance. As for the other death... A Girl can do herself."

Arya frowned.

"How?" She demanded. Gendry was getting them guns from the hold in the garage, but she couldn't shoot Chiswyke. Someone would hear.

A Man grinned, and then the pressed something into her palm. Arya looked down and gasped aloud. '_Needle.' _

"Tonight," he whispered. "When the night is half way, yes?"

"Midnight," Arya echoed, looking down at Needle in her hand and feeling a strange sense of loss and happiness.

When she looked up, he was gone.

That evening, as she waited in line with Ygritte, Arya passed by Gendry and whispered, just loud enough for only him to hear, "tonight." She hoped he wouldn't bring Hot Pie. She knew he would.

When Ygritte offered for her to share the sleeping bag, Arya shook her head no. She didn't want to wake Ygritte in the night and have to explain. Besides, what if Ygritte didn't let her go? What if she told Tywin? They were friends, but... Arya didn't really think there was such a thing as real friends anymore, true friends. She couldn't trust anyone.

She waited until the moon was just about full in the sky, and then she zipped up her jacket and said one last, very unapologetic goodbye to the lake and its murky, unmoving surface, and then, as quiet as a mouse, she stood and walked back inside. Next to her feet, Ygritte shifted.

"Take a cigarette for the road," she whispered softly, and Arya watched, frozen, as Ygritte lifted a freckled arm and handed her a pack. "And don't end up on the wrong end of the pier. I'll be watching out for you."

"I won't," Arya said with a cracked voice, taking the pack. Ygritte looked up at her with shining eyes and grinned her crooked grin. Then she rolled over and curled into a ball, as if she had always been asleep.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

"Goodbye," Arya managed.

Heart pounding in her ribs, Arya picked her way around the sleeping forms, shoving the cigarettes in her pocket. She tiptoed down the stairs and then out of the fun house, the clown's eyes seeming to watch her as she went. She quickly darted into the shadows, looking for Hot Pie and Gendry, when she felt a hand over her mouth. She screamed, but the sound was muffled, and the grip was too strong- She bit down.

"Oww! Fuck! Arya!" Gendry swore under his breath, and she whipped around to see him glaring at her in the darkness, Hot Pie by his side.

"I thought you were Chiswyke," Arya said, her heart beating so fast that her entire body was pulsing.

"Clearly," he said darkly, inspecting the blood that was draining from bite marks in his hand, glittering dark red in the shadows.

"We've got to get a move on," Arya hissed. "It's past midnight now."

"What about Wheeze?" Gendry demanded. "What about Chiswyke?"

"I've got it sorted," she said firmly. They hadn't had time to discuss the strange foreign man, or his promises. She hoped he was a man of his word.

"Sorted?" Gendry grunted in indignation.

"There's no time to explain you dildo!" Arya hissed. "If we sit here any longer we'll be killed! Do you want a cement block tied to your legs?"

"No," Hot Pie said quickly.

"Good," Arya snarled. "Come on."

They followed her through the shadows, weaving in and out of the hulking structures and towards the toll booth. Arya held her breath as they neared the offices...

Hot Pie screamed. Or, rather, he started to scream, but Gendry grabbed him by the mouth and muffled the sound. Arya stood for a second, transfixed, staring right into Wheeze's eyes, but knowing he wasn't staring back. Under his chin, there was only red.

"Come on," she hissed, and Gendry and Hot Pie followed. Hot Pie looked terrified, but she could not read Gendry's face as he moved next to her in the light of the moon. All he was was a stony shadow.

They neared the toll booth and slowed to a stop.

"What about Chiswyke?" Gendry asked. Arya curled her fingers around Needle.

"I've got that sorted as well," she said darkly. "You stay here until I give the signal."

She made a move to go, but Gendry stopped her, his grip surprisingly strong.

"What are you going to do?" He demanded, his eyes flashing bright while his face sunk in the shadows.

"I'm going to save our lives," she snapped, wrenching her arm away. She didn't need his morals. Not now.

He let her go, and as she crept towards the toll both, she tried to think of how she was going to do it. She needed to get him out of there, out into the open where she could attack him, but how? She fished around in her pockets, looking for something, anything, that could help her. Her finger slid over something smooth, and frowning, she lifted it into the light.

It was a coin, but like none that she had ever seen. It looked strange, foreign, like the man that must have slipped it in her pocket. There was a piece of paper too. _Valar Morgulius, _it read. Whatever the hell that meant.

Shoving the paper in her pocket, Arya crouched low, and then she tossed the coin out in front of the toll booth.

She held her breath...

There was a click, and Chiswyke stepped out of the toll booth, going out to where the coin had landed. He bent down-

Arya, like a flash, leapt up, clicked out Needle's blade and then, without thinking, slashed it across Chiswyke's throat.

There was a split second of terror, and then his blood exploded across her hands, and he was making horrible, retching and gurgling sounds, his fingers at his throat... And all she could think about was how she ought to be horrified. She ought to be screaming, panicking, but she wasn't. All she felt was empty.

"You deserved it," she whispered, and then she signaled for Gendry and Hot Pie.

She had gotten the lid to the manhole off by the time they got there, and Hot Pie looked like he might faint.

"You killed him!" He cried, but Arya ignored him.

Gendry stared at her long and hard, but he said nothing.

"Let's go," she said, looking down the hole into blackness. '_Down the rabbit hole, Arya Stark, and once you go down, you can never go back.'_

She lowered herself into the hole and did not look back.

**Will Arya and her friends reach the Trident? Or will they run into an unexpected band of brotherly trouble**


	15. Psychotic Girl

**Gendry**

It was dark in hell, Gendry decided. He had also decided that this place could only be hell. Black, with such a horrible oder that he could scarcely breathe, and there was water sloshing at his feet... And something else. Something else that squeaked and clawed. Something with little feet that moved and scattered in the beam of Arya's flashlight.

"RATS!" Hot Pie had screamed hours earlier, when they had attacked the food bag and sent the trio running. Even Arya had panicked, her fingers digging into Gendry's arm as she frantically dragged him forward and away from the shrieking rodents. Now they traveled with caution. Every time there was a noise, Hot Pie jumped and screamed until Arya hit him with her flash light, and then he only whimpered.

"I wish I was back at the restaurant," he whined. "Harrenhal wasn't so bad. I wish you two had left me out of your stupid plans."

"Trust me," Arya had snarled under her breath as they followed the dank trickle of water, curving through the tunnels that dripped, "so do I."

"We couldn't have left you," Gendry growled, equally annoyed. "If we had left, they would have given you the worst of it, looking for her. If we had left you, you'd be at the bottom of the lake right now."

There was silence.

"What do they want with her?" Hot Pie asked in unflattering disbelief.

"Nothing," Arya grunted, her eyes flashing at Gendry in the dim light of her torch. She did not trust Hot Pie with her secret. _But then why does she trust me?_ Or did she even trust him at all? He was beginning to wonder.

They had been weaving through the tunnels for a good six hours now, and the more they walked, the more Gendry felt a dampness and a dread in his bones. Very little frightened him, but this place did. As day broke, there were thin strips of light that cascaded down from the drains on the streets, and soon they heard the rumble and roars of cars driving over their heads. Beneath all the sound the world made above them, the water trickled like whispers, and more than once Gendry jumped at his shadow.

As they walked, Gendry couldn't help but watch Arya out of the corner of his eyes. There was still blood on her hands, slowly dripping away as water splashed against them, but the blood was still there. Dark and cracked. It didn't seem to bother her. Her face was as smooth as glass, her eyes determined as they followed the trail of water. It was eerie, and Gendry didn't like it. She had always been a bit damaged, a bit wild, but now... He didn't like the change he was seeing in her.

"Where's the Trident?" Hot Pie whined an hour later. "I'm hungry."

"Shut up," Arya hissed. "We get there when we get there."

"Maybe I could go get some food," Gendry offered. "I could find a drug store or something."

"And then what? Get shot?" Arya practically shouted, rounding on him, her flashlight nearly blinding him as she directed it at his face. "You seriously don't think Tywin has his forces combing through the cities looking for us?"

"But he doesn't know who-" Gendry said without thinking, and then his eyes alit on Hot Pie, who looked confused, "who... You are."

"Who is she?" Hot Pie asked and Arya glared.

"I told you," she snarled at him. "No one."

"Then why-"

"Shut up!" Arya snapped. "The both of you! We're not splitting up, all right?"

She looked so fierce in the dim beam of the torch, the blood on her hands glowing and fading in the artificial light, most of her face sinking into the shadows, that Hot Pie and Gendry didn't have to exchange a look. They both nodded fiercely in agreement. She scowled.

"Good," she said shortly, turning her light to beam down the curve in the tunnel. "Let's go."

They walked on for at least three more hours. It was starting to get hot, and it stank horribly. Sweat trickled down Gendry's neck and his shoes sloshed, wet and uncomfortable. He could feel the grimy water seep into his socks and rub against his skin like sandpaper. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness as they trudged on, and he could see all sorts of trash slosh around their feet. A sea of forgotten candy wrappers and straws.

"I can't do this," Hot Pie groaned. "I've gotta sleep."

"No," Arya snapped. "We have to keep moving."

"Come on," Gendry said, catching the look of utter exhaustion on Hot Pie's face. "Twyin's not going to be combing the sewers. Not just yet. An hour or so can't hurt."

Arya's fists clenched white over her flashlight and she glared.

"Fine," she relented, giving Hot Pie a scorching look. "But if we hear any sign-"

"We'll run," Gendry cut across her firmly. "I agree with Hot Pie. I think we should rest."

Hot Pie wasn't the only one with dark circles under his eyes. Though she tried to hide it, Arya looked near collapsing herself. Gendry was getting really worried about her.

They found a place that was raised from the general trickle of water, and all sat down. Hot Pie put his backpack down, and no sooner did his head hit it, than he was asleep, snoring loudly. Arya sat away from him, shooting him a look of disgust, her hands clutching the flashlight. The blood was almost gone, washed clean or rubbed away. Gendry leaned his head against the dirty curved side of the tunnel and closed his eyes.

"He deserved what he got," she said unexpectedly, startling him. Gendry opened his eyes, but she wasn't looking at him, but instead at the water, as if thinking of the trail it created taking her directly home to her family.

Gendry didn't say anything, he just looked at her.

"You don't think I should have killed him," she said. She wasn't asking, either. There was a long silence.

"I just don't want you to turn into him," Gendry said slowly, and she looked up, surprised. There was a flicker of fear in her eyes. "It's not a far step, Arya."

She shuttered slightly and looked away.

"I'm not _anything_ like them," she whispered in a fierce hiss, digging her fingers into her knees. But Gendry knew that she wasn't convinced.

Gently, Gendry reached out and took her hand. She gasped softly and looked up at him. She hadn't expected him to be kind, or affectionate, and that made Gendry frown. It was so difficult, sometimes, to not be angry with her. She could be damn infuriating... But she was still a scared little girl who was far from home and lost.

As if catching herself, she jerked her hand away, closing her other hand over it, and then to his surprise she blushed.

"I... I think I should get some sleep," she said softly.

"Good," Gendry sighed, relieved.

With a half smile, she turned, and then curled into a ball, closing her eyes. Gendry looked at her for a moment, and then he remembered something. Picking up his backpack, he unzipped it and pulled out an extra jacket, draping it over her thin shoulders. Arya's eyes fluttered open, glazed with exhaustion, and she stretched out her fingers and curled them around his, her eyes fluttering closed again.

Leaning his head back, Gendry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, and maybe he did, but it didn't feel like it. All he could see was her face, and how it had looked when she had slashed open Chiswyke's throat. It was haunting, cold and emotionless. It made him wonder if it belonged the same girl that clung to his fingers like a death wish.

When Arya stirred, and he opened his eyes again, he saw that the light was fading. They woke Hot Pie, who proved very hard to wake (Arya had to slap him. Twice), and then they started walking again. Night began to fall, and Arya's torch began to beam brighter as the light streaming in from the drains was slowly sucked away. Gendry was beginning to think they'd never reach the Trident when they turned a corner, and saw that they were at the end of a wider tunnel that led to the opening to the river.

"There it is!" Arya said, and there was no denying the flash of joy that danced across her face.

They all hurried forward, ready to be rid of the tunnels and the rats. As they got nearer, Gendry could see the lights from the city glimmering off the surface of the huge river. The other side was all woods though, dark and full of places to hide. And down river... Riverrun, where Arya's brother was.

_Free at last, _Gendry thought as they were about to break from the tunnels...

There was a movement of shadows, and then suddenly a figure jumped from above and right in front of them, blocking their path. Gendry barely had time to react before three more figures appeared in the beam of Arya's torch. There was a pause...

"Well, well, well," the first man said, his face illuminated in the light of Arya's flashlight. "Where do you think you're going, Arya Stark?


	16. Don't You Worry

**Arya**

There was a moment of silence, and then Arya chucked her flashlight straight at the man's face, hitting him square between the eyes.

"RUN!" She screamed, turning and running like mad back the way they had come, Hot Pie and Gendry right at her heels. Her heart pounding in her chest, each breath screaming in her ears, she felt a desperate panic take hold of her as she sprinted back into the loop of tunnels, running for her life. Her feet slipped and splashed against the water, her jeans becoming soaked and spray flying about her face, her hands shaking out to stop her in case she fell. Behind her she could hear shouts, but she shut it out and ran.

'_I can't let them get me now,' _she thought frantically. '_Not now. Not when we've come so far.'_

But as she kept running, the sounds of shouting began to die away, and as she and Hot Pie spun around a corner, she grabbed him and forced him against the wall, hiding in the shadows, both of them panting for breath and waiting for Gendry to follow.

Only he didn't.

"Where's Gendry?" Arya demanded, her blood freezing cold with panic. And then there was another shout, and she recognized it. "HOT PIE! Where's Gendry?"

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the side of the tunnel. His eyes were wide and afraid, but she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and she yanked him again. '_No, no, no...'_

"I dunno," he gasped, "he was right behind me..."

She slammed him against the side of the tunnel in her rage and then let go, taking off and running back the way they came.

"NO! ARRY NO!"

But she would not listen to him. She knew that if she went back, she'd certainly be caught, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry.

She raced back down the tunnels frantically, her mind spinning and her breath grating against her throat like sandpaper, her feet pounding against the water and grime. She couldn't think about anything but the shouts that were echoing off the walls and driving her into a frenzied panic.

"Got you!"

Arya screamed as she collided with a dark figure, a hand instantly clamping onto her arm and wrenching against it. She yanked her arm back, jerking him forward, and then slammed her other hand into his head, tangling her fingers with his hair and then bringing his head down, crashing it against her knee. There was a sickening crack and she felt his blood flower onto her knee, hot and sticky.

He roared in pain, and then roared again as she kicked him in the balls, sending him sprawling, and then she dashed towards a clump of figures, barely visible in the darkness of the tunnels, outlined with the lights from the city reflected off the rippling surface of the Trident. As she raced forward, she saw that Gendry was in the thick of it, trying to fight single handed against six or seven men.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" She shouted, reaching into her pocket and pulling out Needle, flicking out the blade.

There was a moment's pause, as they all stopped and stared at her, and then they all burst out into hysterical laughter.

"Let him go!" She shouted, standing her ground and gripping the blade.

"Oh look at her," one of the men said, chuckling deeply, "put that knife away kid, you might hurt yourself."

"I wouldn't laugh too hard Tom," another said. "That blade's got blood on it."

"And it'll have more if you don't leave him alone!" Arya shouted, raising the blade threateningly.

"That's Arya Stark all right," said a voice that sounded familiar. "And she's as good as her word fellas, don't let the height fool you. She once gave me a black eye for three days, and she was only seven."

"Harwin?" Arya asked haltingly, feeling her grip on Needle slacken slightly. She caught herself and raised the blade again with a jerk. "You're with them now?" The last part was a spit, and she felt bitterly betrayed. Harwin had worked for her father. He had been at Winterfell, and now he was working with Lannister thugs. She could trust no one, not even her own kind.

"I told you," another voice said from off to the side, "she thinks we're Lannisters."

"Well she didn't give us time to explain, did she?" said a voice that was also familiar. Arya squinted in the dark, trying to think of who it was.

"That little bitch fucking broke my nose!" said a thick voice, and Arya turned to see the man she had kneed in the face dragging a terrified Hot Pie, who kept saying, "I yield! I yield!"

"That's because you _are_ Lannisters!" She shouted, jabbing Needle at them. "NOW LET HIM GO!"

The last part was a scream, and she was surprised to see them all drop Gendry's arm at once, looking at her with frightened expressions. She looked down to see her hand shaking against her knife, and she looked over at Gendry, who was looking at her.' _I'm going crazy,' _she thought, frightened, '_but... But they can't hurt him. I won't let them take him away from me.'_

"Don't worry Arya, we don't want to take you anywhere near Lannisters," Harwin said gently. One of the men, who Arya could see had a shock of bright red hair even in the dark, spit on the ground. "We want to take you home."

Arya blinked, not allowing herself to believe it's true.

"H-Home?" She asked, shuddering slightly. '_Home_.' "To Winterfell?"

"No," Harwin said gently, and Arya felt herself crash, "no Winterfell's been... Sort of taken. Theon Greyjoy went mad and... Sort of took over."

"We're taking you to your mother, and to Robb," said the other familiar voice, and as the rippling light danced across his face, Arya recognized him as Beric Dondarrion. He had fought in Robert's boxing match, all those months ago. Sansa had called him 'hot.' The light was too dim to see if she was right.

"I don't believe you," Arya said, her knife still clenched in her hand. "Why don't you call up Robb and have him come and get me?"

"And meanwhile hide out here? In this dump?" one of the men grunted. "Not fucking lightly."

"Please Ms. Stark," Beric said. "Put the knife down." Arya's eyes flicked to Gendry. Should they run? But how could they run? How could they when they were so outnumbered? Gendry's blue eyes flickered slightly, and she knew what he would say without really saying anything. '_Yield.' _He nodded uncertainly. She gave him a stricken look, but he nodded again. Then his eyes flicked to one of the men, and she saw that he had a huge sniper rifle. It was time to put the knife down. Against her will, she took the blade and put it away, slowly.

"Good," Beric said, sounding relieved. "Now, I know this isn't going to help my case, but-"

Arya screamed as one of the men grabbed Gendry about the face, a rag in his hand, and Gendry struggled violently, his eyes starting to blink and roll back in his head. Arya leapt forward, her hand shooting out to help him, only to have her head jerked back, and then there was a hand closing over her mouth, the overwhelming smell of chloroform flooding into her nostrils.

"I'm sorry Arya, but it's just easier this way," Harwin's voice was saying from far off, and Arya could feel herself slipping, her fingers clawing the air for Gendry, and finding him not there. That was the last thing she thought before the world oozed into darkness.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo

The world bled colors, melding with the darkness, and Arya groaned, her head throbbing and her stomach curling in starvation. She groaned and rolled over, blinking slowly, the light hurting her eyes. She had the thought that she hadn't seen light for an extended period of time, and her eyes felt weak and her head swam in confusion. Where was she? It was warm here, and soft, and she hadn't been in a place with either of those things in a very long time. So why did she feel so afraid?

"Arya."

She nearly screamed and sat up so violently she almost knocked heads with who had spoken her name, causing them to jump back with a yell.

"Gendry?" She asked as he picked himself up from the end of the bed. "But..."

It all came back in a rush. The dark figures. The running. The cloth over her mouth.

"What's going on?" She asked in a low voice, least they were listening. "Are they Lannisters?"

"No," Gendry said with a frown. "Though I don't know..."

"If we can trust them?" Arya said ruefully. "Don't you think the whole kidnapping thing sort of labels them as, oh I don't know, a potential threat?"

"If they really meant to harm us, they would have done it by now," Gendry said, and not without reason. "And you definitely wouldn't be in that bed, in this nice place."

"Yeah, where are we?" Arya demanded.

"Some sort of back street bakery, I think," Gendry said with a frown. "Hot Pie's gone berserk."

"Oh he's here too? Then it really must be a party," Arya said sarcastically. Gendry's frown deepened.

"Don't," he said. "I know you like him, even if you pretend you don't."

Arya opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Gendry's face was turning slightly red and he shifted away from her, taking a deep breath. She narrowed her eyes as he licked his lips nervously, running his finger against the planes of his palm.

"What?" She asked accusingly.

"I know you like him, just like I know that you'll be upset when you hear..." Gendry tried to say delicately, but Arya was sharp as a whip.

"When I hear what?" She demanded.

"That he's decided to stay behind," Gendry said. "He's not coming with us to your brother's. He... Well the rats really freaked him out and-"

"Well good," Arya said at once, but Gendry was right. It did sting. "I didn't even want him here in the first place."

"It's not about you Arya, really-"

"Didn't I just say I was happy?" Arya snapped across him. "Good riddance! I could really care less."

She yanked the covers up and turned away from Gendry.

"It's going to be okay, Arya-"

"Yes I know it's going to be okay! Do you even listen when I talk-"

Arya felt her eyes bulge open and her angry retort catch in her throat as Gendry completely surprised her and took her hand gently, his rough, thick fingers closing over hers. She suddenly felt her cheeks explode with color, and she didn't know why. All she knew was that she didn't want him to hold her hand, while at the same time, she _did_ want him too. It was a very confusing feeling.

"It's going to be okay because I'm not going anywhere," he said earnestly, and Arya found that she had a hard time meeting his blue eyes.

"Yeah I know," she said uncomfortably, coughing, her throat dry. "It's your job-"

"Not just because of my job," Gendry cut across her, and Arya blinked in surprise. "Fuck my job, you obviously can look after yourself. Heck, you've been protecting _me_ most of this time. It's not that... It's... I err... I want to. It's because I want to."

Arya felt her face getting hotter and hotter and she didn't know what to say.

"We're a team," Gendry said with an uncertain grin. "You and me. Friends."

"I don't have friends," Arya said quietly. "I mean, I used to and everything, but-"

"Well you've got me," Gendry said with a genuine smile. "For better or worse, I suppose."

"Mostly worse," Arya said, rolling her eyes, and he laughed.

"I'm not going to leave Arya," he said. "Even after we find your brother. Besides, I probably have a better chance of living with you around."

Gendry grinned at Arya, and she wondered if she should grin back. She felt a strange mixture of trepidation, hope and sadness all mingling with her, and she didn't know what to do with it all, but it was swallowing her up, and so, without even thinking, she leaned in quickly and gave him a hug. It wasn't a soft or sweet one, but she felt herself clinging to him, as though she didn't quite believe him when he said he wouldn't leave her and she was determined to hold him there so he wouldn't try to leave. '_Everyone always tries to leave in the end_,' she thought as she felt his arms awkwardly move around to rest on her shoulders. '_Please don't let him be one of them.'_

**Jon POV chapter coming up soon! Now will we know what Ygritte's really up to? Just thought I'd warn yo**


	17. Bloodflood

**Gendry**

"I just want to know why."

Those were the words Gendry had said when Hot Pie stood at the edge of the table where they made sticky buns, looking down at the floured wooden surface rather than Gendry's eyes. Gendry crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an answer.

"You know she's going to be upset," Gendry said, feeling especially irked. '_I put my neck on the line for this kid,' _he thought to himself, '_I was the one who pushed for him to come, and now he's gone chicken shit.'_

"No she won't be," Hot Pie said at once. "She hates me."

"She acts like she hates everyone," Gendry said with a snap. "Don't use that as an excuse to cop out. I put myself out there for you. She didn't want you to come, but I said you should, and now you're leaving?"

"Come on man," Hot Pie said, looking at him earnestly. "It was only ever the two of you."

Gendry frowned, and for some reason he felt his face go bright red.

"What are you talking about?" He said defensively.

"Man you know," Hot Pie said. "You've gotta know."

"No I don't," Gendry snapped. "But if you want to do this than, fine. I guess it really is the two of us."

"Look man I'm sorry-"

"Save it," Gendry said shortly, "for when she wakes up. I don't care what you say, she's going to be crushed."

"I don't even know who she is," Hot Pie said feebly, but Gendry had had no time for his excuses. He left him standing there at the corner of the table.

She had been let down too, Gendry could tell. The instant he told her, there was a sadness and a loneliness that had passed over her face and she had bowed her head and looked away so he wouldn't see the betrayal she felt. But Gendry knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he knew it so painfully well that when she snapped and pretended to be happy about the loss of Hot Pie, he knew better. He knew exactly how she felt, and suddenly there was this incredible rush within him to show her how she was not alone, so he had taken her hand and told her just that.

"I'm not going to leave Arya," he had said, and he meant it too. Because if he left her... If he left than what would she become? For a second he looked at her and all he saw was her face after slitting Chiswyke's throat, the deadness in her eyes...

And when she reached out and hugged him, he felt her arms clinging to him, thin but fierce, and she had held him as if she didn't believe him. As if he was already gone...

"Gendry!"

"What?" Gendry asked, snapping out of his trance as Arya grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

"There's a log there?" She said, raising her eyebrows. "You almost tripped?"

"Oh," he had been too lost in thought to notice. "You're seriously the stupidest person I've ever met," she sighed, rolling her eyes, but it was good natured and her hands didn't leave the folds of his jacket until after they had safely passed the log. When she let go, she still remained close.

"I hate this," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why we couldn't have just used a car..."

"Told you it was too dangerous," said Lem over his shoulder, a member of the Brotherhood. "Tywin's going mad looking for you. His men are combing the streets. Stealing a car would be like calling him up and telling him where you are."

"Read a newspaper," Tom, the one who liked to sing, chirped up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a newspaper before chucking it back at Arya, who caught it, scowling. "You made the front page."

"'Millionare's daughter goes missing'?" Gendry read over Arya's shoulder as she opened it. "Isn't that a dangerous move on his part?"

"It's more dangerous for him if she's gone," Anguy, the one with the sniper rifle said. "You've gotta take into account that Arya's been at Harrenhal for months. The information she knows is enough to kill for, and if she went crying back to brother dearest-"

"I don't cry," Arya snarled, shoving the newspaper closed as they tromped through the woods.

"Tywin got way too smug if you ask me," Lem said, "keeping her there and not thinking she's escape. Never underestimate a Stark, that's what Beric always says. He was right. I heard you slit the throat clean apart of one of his men."

Arya shot a look at Gendry, but did not meet his eyes. She bent her head down.

"We can't walk the whole way to Riverrun," Gendry said quickly.

"Says who?" Asked Tom.

"Well it's ridiculous!" Gendry snapped. "At some point we've got to get a car or our feet will... I dunno explode."

They laughed.

"Once we get to the Peach we should find some ulterior mode of transportation," Anguy relented. "But until then you'll have to walk."

"Are we supposed to sleep rough in the woods?" Arya demanded.

"You slept in a sewer, didn't you?" Lem asked, raising his eyebrows. "This should be a leg up."

Arya scowled.

"I still don't think we should trust them," she said in low tones to Gendry. "The last time I saw it, the Trident flowed the opposite way we're going."

"How do you know? You don't even know where we are," Gendry pointed out. "It seems to me that the best thing to do is trust them, either way we're stuck with them."

He made an important head nod towards the large sniper rifle.

"Or we could run away," Arya whispered. "We've done it before."

"No," Gendry said firmly. "I believe them. They said they were on our side, and they haven't given us reason-"

"They kidnapped us!" Arya hissed. "For all you know they could be leading us straight to Tywin!"

"No they won't be," Gendry growled right back. "Do you remember when the Mountain broke my arm? It was because they were looking for _them_, the Brotherhood! Tywin's _afraid_ of them. That must count for something."

This seemed to catch her argument, so Arya merely scowled, but Gendry had a funny feeling that this wasn't the last he was going to hear of her doubts. She wasn't unfounded, he supposed... But he didn't believe that these men, putting the sniper rifle aside, were dangerous. They could have hurt him when they caught him in the tunnel, but they didn't. They merely tried to calm him down and reason with him. No one had given him the time to reason in a very long while. Gendry had almost forgotten what it was like for people to be reasonable and just.

"Are we going to tromp through the woods all day?" Arya called out, still looking grumpy. "It's going to get dark soon."

"We're trying to make it to hollow hill," Tom sang and Arya rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't be long now, ehh Lem?"

"Nope," Lem said amiably. "Not long."

Arya pouted, and Gendry knew she hated to be made fun of. He watched her, out of the corner of his eye, as they walked. At times like these, she reminded him so much of a badly tempered child. He supposed she was the sort of girl that, when a boy pushed her and tugged on her braids, she'd knee him in the balls. Most girls would cry. When Gendry was little, he had seen it often. Girls like Arya who didn't take shit, even then, were rare. She must have had lots of friends who were boys. He wondered what she was like back then, how different she must have been. A whole different person.

"And here we are!" Lem called over his shoulder, winking at Arya.

They broke through the forest and looked up at a small slope of earth the rolled upwards and then down again in a perfect hill. Before Gendry could even stop her, Arya was racing up it, and he was racing after her, reaching out to catch her when she stopped-

"Look," she said.

They were standing on the top of the hill, and around them, in a delicate ring, there were what looked like a dozen stumps of what must have been huge trees, all perfectly spaced apart. Gendry gasped for breath, but Arya didn't even look winded. In the deep afternoon light she looked at him, and for some reason a smile broke over her face.

"Let's count them," she said eagerly, and then, as Gendry watched her in bafflement, she leapt on top of the one closest to them. "One."

Gendry shrugged and followed suit, getting on the one behind her and turning in the opposite direction.

"Two," he said.

Arya leapt nimbly from one stump to the next.

"Three."

Gendry was not so nimble. He sort of lumbered.

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

"Seven," Arya called as they got farther and farther away from each other. They were at opposite ends of the circle.

"Eight."

"Nine."

They began to slowly curve back towards each other.

"Ten."

"Eleven."

"Twelve."

Thirteen," Arya stopped so that they were facing each other, one stump in between them. She smiled at him, and Gendry could only wonder what it was about this particular hill, and this particular ring of stumps that had brought about such a change in her.

"Fourteen."

They said it together, standing on the stump, and suddenly she was very close, but only for a moment. Arya gave him a half smile, and then she sat down on the stump. Gendry followed suit.

"It's a shame," Gendry said, running his palm over the ridges of the stump. "These are huge. They must have been ancient. It's too bad someone cut them down."

"They were ancient," Arya said, surprising him and he looked up to see her tracing her fingers over the rings in the stump, a tranquil and almost lost look on her face. "They're called heart trees, or rather they were."

"How did you know that?" Gendry asked, watching her as she continued to trace her fingers over the lines. There was such a tenderness in the act, and Gendry saw, not for the first time, the deep humanity that resided with her.

"We had one, back at Winterfell," she said softly, still absorbed in the stump. The glowing light of the evening shown against the pale smoothness of her skin, the outline of her cheeks touched with gold. Gold danced in her hair too as it tousled in the breeze. "We used to say, my brothers and I... That when we got married, we'd all do it out by the heart tree. My Dad used to tell us about how if you listened, really listened, when the wind blew, the leaves of the heart tree would whisper to you."

And suddenly it all made sense. Her sudden change in mood, the rare rush of happiness the stumps had brought her. They reminded her of home. They reminded her of her family and of the love they must have shared. To her, these weren't just stumps. They were sacred.

"What would it whisper?" Gendry asked softly. She blushed.

"I don't know," she said. "I remember sitting there for hours as a little kid and listening but I never did hear anything."

"They must have been massive," Gendry said, tracing his fingers over the circles as well. He lost track of thought for a moment, and their fingers brushed over each other like a whisper. Arya drew her hand back, her cheeks burning, but for some inexplicable reason, just for a second, Gendry had the strongest urge to take her fingers and tangle them with his. And then he was looking at her, and her hair was blowing in her face, so he reached out and brushed it behind her ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He found himself smiling at her.

Something flickered across her eyes and she shook her head, shivering, and then inched away from him. And suddenly, unexpectedly Hot Pie's words floated back to him. _"Come on man, you've gotta know. It was only ever the two of you."_

"All right you two!" Lem shouted. "Time to go! We've got the tents set up down by the trees and dinner's almost ready!"

Just like that the moment was broken. Arya hopped off the stump, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her jacket closer, and then she walked back down the hill, the sun shifting downwards in the sky and casting a shadow over her as she went.

**Jon POV next chapter! Taking a short, but sweet break from Arya/Gendry perspective to see what Ygritte is up to (why did she need all that money?), and what impending dangers Jon faces guarding the border.**


	18. Hazard

**Slightly large but very important A/N: so to start things off I must apologize for what probably seemed like my abandoning this fic. Not the case, I assure you! Right now, I'm applying for college, and it's my senior year, so apps and schoolwork and preparing for the holidays had to take center stage. I simply had no room to write, but that won't be for long because I'm almost done! Enough apologizing, moving on to the story. I know you all waited so long, and you're probably going to flay me alive because I have to tell you that this chapter is a split POV between Sansa and Jon, and I know this is an Arya/Gendry fic but I had lots of loose ends I had to tie up, and this chapter is how I'm doing it. That being said, fear not! I** **did this so that all chapters, from now on, will be purely arya/gendry, and to get the story to pick up a little bit, and get you guys to the good stuff, I've decided to combine POV'S for chapters so that more will happen in each chapter (all POV'S from now on will be Arya and Gendry's). Also: I'm almost done with the next chapter, so more Arya/Gendry very soon! **

Jon

The static of the intercom crackled dully in the background as Jon sat there, gazing absentmindedly at the growing darkness of the woods. Every so often he would feel a shutter of cold, and realize the space heater had been turned off, and then turn it on again. He thought, from time to time, to turn on the portable television, but every time he went to do it, he would lose track of time, and plunge into his thoughts until the space heater would go out again, and then he would be forced to turn it on. He just couldn't seem to get ahold of the thoughts tangling in his head, or the worry knotting itself at the pit of his stomach.

It had been three months, exactly, since Arya had gone missing, and no one had seen hide nor hair of her. Not even a whisper. In the beginning Cersei had tried to cover up her escape, but Robb assured Jon that his spies said otherwise. The only Stark girl held in the Red Keep was Sansa.

There had been talk of getting her out, but the authorities were all in Lannister pockets, and if Robb had gone to the police, he would have certainly been arrested. Jon had tried to go in search of Arya himself, but Robb had insisted that he couldn't let Jon abandon his job and throw away all the good he had done just to be on the wrong side of the law.

"Dad wanted better for you," Robb had said over the phone.

_What about you? _Jon had wanted to say, but he knew better. It wasn't his place to avenge the horrors that had been done to his family.

So he sat. And he waited.

It seemed like the whole world was going insane, and here he was, with his space heater, worthlessly guarding a border no one cared to cross. Beyond the border (nicknamed the 'Wall' by everyone because it was apparently impossible to cross over. Save for one, feisty and impetuous red-haired girl) was only ice and dust and poverty.

_Why are we guarding it anyway? _Jon wondered to himself listlessly.

It had been well over three weeks since he had talked to Robb, and so far no progress. Well, not from Robb's point of view anyway. According to him, they'd have the Lannisters taken care of in a month or so, and the family safely back together. But somehow Jon wasn't lulled by Robb's words of comfort.

"Still no sign of Arya?" He had pressed Robb hopelessly.

"No," Robb sighed. "But we'll find her Jon. I promise. If Arya's anything, she's a fighter. She knows how to take care of herself."

That was true. Jon supposed it would be far worse if Sansa was the one missing, but somehow that didn't make him feel any better. The thought of Sansa alone and afraid... And who knew what Joffrey was doing to her, the twisted little shit.

"What about Bran and Rickon?" Jon demanded. "I switched on the television the other day and saw Winterfell burnt to a crisp! Are they all right?"

"Rickon's nanny, Osha, is looking after them I think," Robb said, and for the first time Jon heard strain slip under his brother's usually so comforting and confident voice. "We'll bring them home Jon," he vowed. "We'll bring them all home."

Jon had clenched the phone, and though the words were supposed to give him hope, they gave him a certain poison as well. As if they were cursed.

The poison spread when Robb admitted some news of his own.

"That's a bad idea," Jon said at once.

"You sound like my mom," Robb had snapped. "Now's as good a time as any."

"Now is the worst possible time," Jon snarled. "You have to wait until this blows over Robb. Marriage right now should be the last thing on your mind!"

"Well it's not," Robb had said firmly. "You could at least pretend to be happy for me."

"What about Arya?" Jon had shouted into the phone. "What about Sansa and Bran and Rickon?"

"I'm doing everything I can!" Robb shouted back. "You're not here, you don't understand-"

Jon had slammed his phone down so hard it had shattered. He instantly regretted it. His few seconds of anger had completely cut him off from the rest of the world. Now, he had no clue of what was going on, with the faulty phone lines at the border outposts.

There was a crackle on the intercom, and then a voice. Jon jumped.

"*zap* Snow! There's been a breach of security on the west flank! *zap* back up needed *zap*! Now!"

Jon leapt to his feet, grabbed his gun and hurried out of the booth. It was growing increasingly dark out in the woods, and as he locked the door, he was glad he had remembered his flash light. As quick as a flash, he darted into the thick of the woods, quickly engulfed in shadows. There was silence; the only sound was his heart, pounding in his chest as he hurried towards the west flank of the wall. Turning his flashlight off, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his gun-

"STOP! STOP OR I SHOOT!"

Up ahead, through the blur of trees, Jon saw his coworker, gun pointed... And a flash of red hair-

_BANG!_

There was a scream, and then Jon was running, running like mad and like the devil, and his gun was out, and Qhorin was turning around, but Jon's eyes alit on the mess of red hair, and the blood that mixed with it... Qhorin was aiming his gun, the girl lifted her head and looked straight into Jon's eyes-

"She tried to kill me-"

_BANG!_

She screamed again. And then there was silence.

Jon's hands shook and the entire world seemed to collapse around him as Qhorin gave a start, and then the gun slipped from his fingers, and his body fell like a great weight, blood gurgling in his mouth, twitching...

"You killed him," Ygritte gasped in shock.

"He was going to kill you," Jon said numbly. But he couldn't understand... It had all happened so fast... He never meant to... The gun slipped from his fingers as well and he sank to his knees.

"He already did," Ygritte groaned, and there was a twinge of annoyance to her voice, as if she was annoyed with him for being so naive. Come to think of it, she probably was. Even when in extreme pain, Ygritte was still... Ygritte.

"No," Jon said furiously, and he went to her, kneeling by her, gently removing her trembling hands clamped against the wound at her side, blood sticking to his flesh... She was right. It was bad. "We're going to get you back to the booth. I have medical supplies there, and I'll call an ambulance..."

But with what? His phone was gone. He had just shot Qhorin in cold blood. He would go to jail. Or maybe even die.

"Don't be stupid," Ygritte snarled, clamping her hands back over the bleeding hole in her side. "Run. Run as far and as fast as you can. It's over for me now, just _go_."

"I can't."

She blinked in surprise, and looked up at his face, and through the amount of pain shimmering in her eyes that seemed to glow blue in the dying light, he saw a real tenderness and sadness flash beneath.

"You stupid idiot," she said with a sigh. Blood formed at her lips. "All right."

She clenched her teeth hard as Jon helped her to her feet, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not fight the yelps and gasps of pain with every step. Tears began to stream down her face as Jon half-supported, half-dragged her back towards the booth. Night fell around them as her feet wobbled and gave out, the blood draining from her face...

It felt like whole years had passed when they finally reached the booth, and Jon was able to open the door, and she collapsed against the floor, her breathing ragged, her fingers leaving trails of blood...

Jon hastily went to the cabinet and got the medical supplies, going to her and taking out everything and anything that might be useful. His hands were trembling.

"We have some good memories in here, don't we?" Ygritte asked as he mopped up the blood with a sterilized wipe. Or at least tried to mop up the blood.

"Don't remind me," Jon snapped, getting gauze and then pressing it to the wound. He held it down with one hand to stop the bleeding and fished around for some tape. She would not die. He was not going to let her die.

"You're still angry," she said, shaking her head and then wincing. Her face was as white as sleet and sweating feverishly. Jon found the tape.

He didn't say anything.

"I didn't use you, you know," she said softly. He raised his eyebrows.

"Didn't you?" He asked as he put the tape over the gauze. "If you hadn't... Well you know... You'd have never gotten away."

"Fucked you?" Ygritte gave a coughing laugh. Blood dribbled into her hands. "You are such a virgin, even now."

"I am not," Jon said childishly. "As you just pointed out."

Ygritte smiled at him, and then, ever so gently, she cupped a bloodied hand to his face. The tape went lax in Jon's hands.

"I'm sorry I left you," she said quietly.

"Never mind that now," Jon sighed, clasping her hand and then setting to taping the gauze. It was beginning to flower red with blood. It was getting harder and harder for Ygritte to breathe... Every gasp for air was shallower and shallower...

"I had a mission," she said, tapping on the strings of her backpack. There must have been something of import inside. "It seems stupid now."

"You were going to save the world, weren't you?" Jon muttered softly, spilling out some antibiotics in his hands, and then giving them to her. She could barely swallow.

"Hundreds of people are dying over there Jon," she croaked. "I couldn't just sit there and do nothing."

Jon stopped and stared at her. It struck him, just then, at how different they were. _She would die for what she believes in, _Jon thought, _and I'm just sitting here, useless, as everyone dies around me. I can't even keep her alive. _

Tears rolled from his eyes.

"You're brave," she told him, reaching up a trembling hand and tracing patterns of blood against his face in wonder.

"I'm not," he said, turning away. "I'm a coward."

"No," she said. "Just stupid."

It was a joke, and she smiled her crooked smile, but the light was going out of her eyes, and she was letting go.

"Don't bury me," she insisted softly. "I hate the idea of worms."

"Don't be stupid," Jon snapped. "You're going to be fine. I'll use my dispatcher to get ahold of someone for help-"

"I don't want you to stay here," Ygritte cut across him. "They'll find out you shot him-"

"I never meant to," Jon said, tears again pushing from his eyes as he clasped her hand. It all seemed like a dream. It wasn't real. Only a half an hour ago he was sitting with his space heater lost in his head...

"I know," she said gently. "But it's been done, and you can't change it. So run. I have a huge packet of money in my sack, take it. Run and save your sisters."

Jon looked over at her, and again, there was a crooked smile. He didn't want to let her go. He never had.

"You'll come with me," he said earnestly. "And I'm going to show you the world. We'll go to all sorts of fancy hotels, and eat stupid French food we can't even pronounce, and then I'll show you all the big beautiful houses in Westeros and you'll never be hungry or want for anything. We'll even go to the moon if we want to."

"Oh Jon Snow," Ygritte sighed. "You know nothing."

And he held her face to his hand as she died.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo

Sansa woke up that morning as if she was still dreaming. Her entire body was cold, like ice, and when she finally moved to sit up, her limbs seemed to crackle, brittle and weak. Blood barely pumped in her veins.

As she went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She was still pretty, it was true, but none of that mattered now. Thinness had crept into her body, and her cheeks had a certain hollow to them that seemed to scoop out the liveliness that had once been so omnipresent. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled a real and true smile. It used to matter to her so much in the beginning, her unhappiness. Now all she felt was a strange sort of survival. Nothing mattered anymore.

Because today was the day that everything ended. Today was the day that she turned eighteen.

_And now you can legally be my wife_, Joffrey had snarled at her with a leer that made her skin crawl the night before at dinner.

There was no escaping. She would marry a monster and live with a monster and sleep with a monster... Joffrey had never tried to touch her, or really touch her, but she knew he was waiting. He was waiting for this day, and she saw the grotesque and sick hunger on his face that grew with every approaching day. He would devour her.

"Mary had a little lamb," Sansa hummed absentmindedly to herself, her voice horse in her throat as she turned on the water to the shower and slipped inside. "Whose fleece was white as snow..."

She missed the snow, she decided, as she threaded her fingers through her wet hair. That was what always made Winterfell so beautiful. Even if she hated being cut off from everything exciting, when it snowed... It was like something out of a dream... And the heart trees leaves were always so red... Like blood against the white.

She stepped from the shower, shivering and naked, and wrapped a towel around herself mechanically. It had been months since she had been out of doors, and her skin was white, almost like the porcelain under her feet, so thin she could see the blue blood of her veins. _I'm might look thin and weak and brittle; _she decided as she looked at her shadow in the mirror, _but underneath that I am a Stark. And Starks are made of steel._

No matter what would happen that day, she would never let them take that away from her.

After she dried herself off, she braided her hair and then pinned it up, sinking a clip that Joffrey had bought her into the folds of hair. He would like that. He liked it when she wore the things he bought her. Next, she did her make-up, and then clasped a delicate bracelet around her wrist. It had been her mothers. She wondered where her mother was now.

_Does she miss me? Is she looking for me? Does she even know I'm alive?_

Getting up, Sansa picked out her dress, white as Joffrey had requested last night, short, flowing and delicate with a skirt that swirled around her knees and a bodice sewed with lace. If she didn't look so dead, she might have thought she was lovely. But as it was, only sunken eyes stared back at what once was Sansa Stark.

She had slept in late, but no one had come to wake her. She wondered if Sandor Clegane had anything to do with that. He had been strangely kind to her those past three months, in his mean, frightening way. But there were no knights in shining armor anyway, and Sansa had learned to take whatever she could that wasn't a beating.

Or maybe it had been Littlefinger's doing. He was an odd one. He had promised to get her out, but... Well here she was, opening the door to her room, dressed like a child bride, and he was nowhere in sight. She had thought, after she spoke to him that day long ago, that he would seek a secret meeting with her... But he did not. When she spoke to him next, it was of the new refurbishment's Joffrey had done to the Keep, and then after that her mother. He told her often she looked like her mother, and she did not like it. His gaze made her skin itch. But she would gladly have him make her skin itch all he liked if he could just get her out of Joffrey's clutches.

"My beautiful bride!"

Joffrey looked pleased with her, but Sansa could barely breathe. Every step down the stairs seemed to bring her heart crashing down lower and lower in her body until it spilled from her feet at the bottom and rolled away, crashing in her ears. Next to him, Cersei pursed her lips. _She hates me, _Sansa knew. _She thinks I'm stupid and weak, but she cannot resist spitting in Robb's face._

She smiled brightly at them all.

The priest stood on the stage, and the only people there were Cersei, Joffrey, and the rest of the Lannister men. As Sansa joined hands with Joffrey, her palms shaking and her head swimming as if in a dream, she spied Littlefinger looking on with a blank expression on his face. The lying bastard.

It all happened in such a blur that Sansa was sure it was a nightmare, but when Joffrey kissed her, she didn't wake up gasping for air. His lips were real and horrible and slimy, and she felt like she was swallowing a mouthful of worms. She wanted to scream, but she could not make a sound...

"And now, we should celebrate!" Joffrey laughed triumphantly, yanking her off the stage and towards one of the tables. There were already wine glasses laid out for them, filled to the brim. Sansa's throat was dry and scratched but she could not drink a thing.

"You are mine now," Joffrey hissed, squeezing her hand so hard he might have crushed the bones. "And I can do whatever I want to you... And no one can touch me... Not even your stupid brother..."

When they reached the table, he let go of her and she fell into a chair uselessly, the world tilting around her so fast and furious that she thought she was surely going to faint. It all wasn't real. It all couldn't be real. And yet...

"A toast," Joffrey said, flinging his glass to the heavens, a look of utter demented happiness across his face. He didn't have to say the words. Sansa could see them. _I will devour you. _"To my bride!"

"Indeed," Cersei said drily, and she took a sip of her wine. Joffrey threw his back. It sloshed down his neck.

"Another!" He shouted happily.

Sansa curled her hands into fists.

"Ms. Stark."

It was Littlefinger, strangely enough. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she almost shook it off, but caught herself. She looked up at him, and he stared down at her calmly.

"I think you should stand. Let me help you."

She did not argue, but she did not understand. His hand looped through hers, and he helped her to her feet. Her knees knocked together. Joffrey coughed loudly.

"Don't *cough* help her," he snapped at Littlefinger, his face going slightly red. The doors for the Red Keep opened, and people started streaming in. "She already *cough* acts *cough* too *cough*-"

He gripped the table, and his face began to bypass red and turn purple... He was beginning to make horrible choking noises...

Joffrey's body contorted, and his fingers snapped around the table cloth but he went crashing down, head first. Cersei screamed.

"This way Ms. Stark," Littlefinger said calmly as Sansa watched in horror, her entire body numb. Joffrey's body twitched on the ground... They rolled him over and his eyes were bulging out of his head... Foam forming at his lips...

People started screaming, and suddenly they were everywhere, flying past Sansa as this horrible, choking and screeching noise swelled up around her, until Sansa realized it was herself. She was screaming and crying, and all the while being dragged, people tearing past her, her hair falling from its braid... The clip cascaded down into the sea of people...

"This way Ms. Stark," Littlefinger said calmly as they swerved around the spilling crowd like shadows. No one noticed them. No one saw them. They were invisible.

Tears nearly blinded Sansa as they pushed to the entrance, and then suddenly they were outside, and it was dark out, but the air... The lovely air... It felt like she hadn't breathed in months...

There was a car, and somehow she managed to be swiftly led inside it, only aware of the fact that she was in it when the door slammed shut. Then there was silence.

"Ms. Stark dry your tears."

Sansa looked up as the car began to move, and looked overat Littlefinger, who was as calm as ever. He even dared to smile at her.

"He... He was poisoned," she gasped out in shock.

"Yes."

"You poisoned him!"

Littlefinger continued to smile pleasantly.

"Not myself," he said. "But I did tell you I would set you free, didn't I little dove? And now here you are. Free."

Sansa couldn't form a coherent thought in her head. Everything was moving too quickly.

"Where are you taking me?" She sputtered out. Littlefinger shook his head.

"It's not a question of where" he said to her knowledgeably. "But what we are going to do when we get there."

**I know that was sad but don't hate me. Next chapter soon promise =)**


	19. Love

**I'd already basically finished it, so I thought, why wait? Here's the next chapter! Hope you like it =)**

**Note: For Gendry's POV I listened to the song 'Home' by Daughter and it just works so well, I thought I'd share. **

** Gendry**

By the time they reached the Peach, it was growing dark, the sky fading into a sunset, the light casting a warm glow over everything. Everything except Arya, that was. She seemed to be in a permanent shadow of annoyance and mistrust. Sleeping rough in the woods for the past couple of nights hadn't helped.

"We're going south," she had insisted over and over again until Gendry thought she might write a song about it. "Look at the sun! If we were going North-"

"Arya shut up," he had finally snapped, irritated beyond belief. "Didn't they make it clear that they want to keep you safe? Why wouldn't we trust them?"

"How long do you have? Because I could give you a million reasons," she had growled. "You're so stupid! If Joffrey dyed his hair red you'd probably trust him too!"

After that, they hadn't spoken much.

Looking over at her, Gendry felt a twinge of something akin to regret twist at his heart. He... He didn't want to be arguing with her. Truth be told, that was the last thing he wanted. But she always made it so easy, damn her. Why couldn't she just see what he saw? That the Brotherhood… Well…They weren't so bad, were they?

The truth was, Gendry rather liked them. The few days he had spent with them... They weren't bad people. They had no money, but when they had passed a homeless man sleeping under a bridge, Beric had given him his sandwich that was supposed to be his meal for the day without a second thought. And when Gendry talked to them, and what they were all about... Not killing people, but _helping _people. The truth of it was, Gendry wasn't sure he'd like working for Robb Stark as much as being with them.

But if Arya so much as heard that thought... She'd kill him. Or worse. No much worse. Gendry stole a look at her now, as they walked through the town, quiet in the evening light, and he knew how she would be. She would be heartbroken.

_That's stupid, _a voice in his head thought, _all she's ever done was hate you. When she sees her brother, you'll be nothing but dust. _

The thought tasted bitter in his mouth.

"Well here she is!" Tom sang. "The Peach! As beautiful as ever!"

That was the most ironic statement Gendry had ever heard. The Peach was the ugliest place he had ever seen. Blinking, half broken neon lights, with pictures of barely covered-up girls plastered onto the brick walls. He could smell the cigarette smoke and booze that seemed to leach from the place and cast it in a smoky haze. Anger swelled within him.

"This is wrong," he said to Beric. "We can't take her here."

"Why not?" Arya snapped at his elbow, appearing out of nowhere and nearly scaring the shit out of him.

"This isn't appropriate," Gendry insisted, his face turning bright red. "She's just a kid-"

"I am not just a kid," Arya snarled right over him, looking strangely hurt. "I'm not stupid either. I know what this place is, and its fine. It's better than sleeping in the woods."

"It is not fine," Gendry said, ignoring her. "Beric surely there's some place else, I'll go with her-"

"Stop treating me like a baby," Arya said hotly. "It's only a strip club."

"It's more than a strip club!" Gendry hissed, his face turning hotter and hotter. Beric said nothing, he merely watched them.

"Oh what? This isn't even about me, is it? What's the matter? Never seen a naked girl before?" Arya taunted, but Gendry knew that she was well aware that it was exactly about her. She was just deflecting the argument.

"No!" Gendry snapped, losing his temper. "I've seen plenty of naked girls, all right? That's not the point-"

Arya's mouth opened, but no sound came over. Clearly she hadn't expected him to say that. In fact, it almost looked like that was the last thing she had expected him to say. Humiliation flowered red across her cheeks.

"I'm afraid it's the only place that's safe for her," Beric said gently. "It's the only place they won't look, and I know the owner."

Cowed, Gendry said nothing, but he was still angry, grinding his jaw together tightly, his fingers flexed as they walked inside.

It smelled even worse. The stench of vomit, alcohol and pot was overwhelming. Music, low and sensual vibrated softly from speakers on the walls, and the lights were so low Gendry was nearly walking blind. Over on a stage, a girl dipped and danced, her breasts bare, for a small crowd of men, who cheered and whistled. Gendry shot a look over at Arya, who was trying to look above it all, and clenched his hands into fists.

_She shouldn't have to see this, _he thought furiously. _This isn't right..._

"Well aren't you a lovely one?"

It was a girl, older than Arya, with tangled black hair and tits clinched tight in a corset. Gendry's throat went dry, but just as the girl came towards him, it was like he felt Arya's presence more and more...

"Care to have your cock warmed? I'd do a face like that for free."

Her arm slinked into his.

"Leave off," Gendry grunted, embarrassed. He felt Arya shift near him and didn't dare to look at her.

"What? Are you gay or something?" She asked with a laugh. And then before he could stop her, she grabbed his crotch and laughed. Gendry pushed her off, mortified. "Obviously not."

"Don't do that!" He said hotly, his face so red he was sure it would burn. "I said no! Leave off!"

"All right then touchy," she snapped, and flounced away, laughing at him.

He caught Arya's eye, and there was a look he could not place, but he couldn't bear to hold her gaze.

He followed Beric and the others upstairs, Arya close behind, to where they would be sleeping. The lights flickered up here too, and in the rooms next to them, they could hear the shrieks and grunts of customers getting their money's worth. There was a moment of silence as they all took in the dilapidated room... The water stained walls, the ripped carpets... It was better than sleeping outdoors, but only just.

"Well," Tom said loudly. "There's a pretty girl putting on a show downstairs, and I'd hate to waste it! Who's with me?"

"I'm feeling lucky," Lem said with a grin, and he and Tom both laughed, tromping back down the stairs with the rest of the Brotherhood. Gendry looked to Arya.

"You stay here-"

"Yeah fucking right," she snapped across him, rolling her eyes, and before he could finish, she was rushing down the stairs.

"... With me," Gendry finished feebly. _You stay here with me._

But she was already gone. Now there was really only one thing that sounded appealing, and that was getting out of his head. It seemed that beer was in order. Arya was nowhere to be found when he got back downstairs, but he was too tired to care. There was a beer on the table, and he took it, stared at it, and listlessly poured it back. It was flat, cheap and disgusting. He downed two more.

The drinks for them were free, apparently, and he gladly took the shots that Tom, who became very happily intoxicated very fast, gave him. Soon, the world was oozing out of focus, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. There was a pretty girl dancing, Tom was singing, and they were all laughing. Laughing... Laughing...

Gendry looked up and saw Arya. She was sitting at the bar. Alone. That wasn't right. He didn't want her to be alone. She was so sad... So sad...

A man, a fat old man, was sliding up beside her, grabbing at her chest-

"You leave her alone," Gendry said, his head like a dead weight on the man's shoulders, clamping him down. He gave a jump.

"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" The man asked, trying to pry Gendry's iron grip off his shoulder.

"She's my sister," Gendry said, and he wasn't drunk enough to know how deadly serious he sounded. "Now you get the fuck away from her."

"Your sister?" The man sputtered, suddenly in all haste to leave. "What kind of fucking sick idiot takes his sister here? Fucking bastard."

He waddled away, muttering to himself.

"Why did you say that?" Arya asked, her face red and angry in the dark. "You're not my brother!"

Gendry stumbled backwards. He wasn't her brother. No he wasn't. He had never felt like her brother. And the way she looked at him now... Like he was no better than scum under her feet... Just a fucking dirty bastard like the man had said.

"No," he said drunkenly. "No I'm just white trash, aren't I? Too lowborn for milady high."

He made a bow to her, and she jumped from the chair violently, looking murderous.

"Shut up!" She shouted.

"You shut up," Gendry snapped, clutching the bar for support. "And fuck off. Go back upstairs so I can have a go at that girl with the black hair. I bet she's a screamer."

The look on Arya's face was one of rage, but even through his drunken haze, Gendry saw tears shining in her eyes. What had he done?

"No, Arya-"

She wrenched away from him, and he tried to stagger after her, but he was too drunk, and he fell over, the sound of laughter ringing in his ears, his hands reaching for her. The world swirled over him, and it was too late. Too late. She was already gone.

OooooOOOOOOOoooo

** Arya **

She sat in the window, a cigarette between her fingers, the smoke drifting out into the inky black night in coils. The world was cold and dark and black, but the moon shone, bathing everything in a silver glow. It was quiet here, by the window. The night sky swirled above her, a dripping mess of stars and glowing grey blue clouds. Outwards there were lights, glittering as far as the eye could see, but it was dark. So dark.

The cool night air washed over her in waves as she took another long, slow drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly. Though the night was still and quiet, there were shrieks of laughter, giggling and groaning coming from inside the building and down on the street below. Below her, Arya could see a woman and a man, talking, laughing, drunk as sailors. At first she had hoped that the woman was Bella, the whore from earlier, but the woman had red hair, not black.

There came a shriek from somewhere inside and then a loud groan. Arya closed her eyes, trying not to think about Gendry. _But what if that was Gendry?_ A little voice in her head said. _What if that was Gendry pile driving that black haired tart?_

She dug her nails into her arm.

Flinging the cigarette out the window, she hoped off the little table she had been sitting on and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. That took several long minutes, as she hated the taste of smoke in her mouth and on her breath and wanted to rid herself of it. When she was sure she was clean, she ran a hand through her chopped hair, trying not to look at herself in the mirror. She had grown to hate mirrors.

The room was dark and she blinked, her eyes adjusting from the change. She lowered herself down on her mattress, stained with some sort of substance (she didn't want to know what it was). She considered wriggling into her sleeping bag, but she couldn't stand the idea of being warm. Warmth made her skin crawl. She much preferred being cold and numb.

As she lay there, she couldn't help but find her thoughts tangling back to Gendry. What he had said... She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of it. She hated that his words hurt. She hated him.

There was a noise and she looked up to see Gendry coming up the stairs, a beer in his hand and obviously drunk. _Have you been fucking her?_ She wanted to ask, but she remembered that she didn't care. It didn't matter to her. Not a wit.

He set the beer down and pulled off his shirt, the shape of his body glowing silver in the moonlight. She ought to have turned away, but there was something, some other force, that pulled her eyes like gravity up and down the outline of his skin. And then he turned and caught her staring.

"Up are you?" He asked, and his voice was thick and slurred. "It's a bit late, don't you think?"

She didn't answer him, she just glared. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to look at him.

Flopping down, she rolled away from him and into a ball, curling her hands to her chest. Her skin was sharp with cold, her body made of ice. Numb and unfeeling.

But... She felt something. The brush of rough, warm hands, and then the feeling of the slick material of the sleeping bag. She rolled around to see Gendry sitting next to her, pulling the bag around her shoulders.

"You're going to freeze to death," he said, blinking at her.

She sat up, about to throw the blanket off, but she nearly smacked her face with his. She hadn't realized he was so close.

His hand was still burning on her shoulder, and suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt a rush that had nothing to do with the cold, and she almost felt sick but it wasn't sick, not really. It was like she was spinning, whirling, and her stomach couldn't quite keep up.

She knew what he was going to do a split second before he did it. She saw something in his eyes shift and change, and then they dusked down to her lips, and he was leaning in, her heart racing faster and faster with every second, and then he kissed her.

She had been kissed before, but it had been completely stupid and pointless. Just moist, uncomfortable lips and saliva. But this was different. This time she didn't want to be kissed just to be kissed.

He tasted of beer and smelled like car grease but it didn't matter. His lips felt like fire against hers, moving in slow, liquid movements. She felt his fingers reach up to cup the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently sliding against hers. It was a different kind of warmth, his body curled against hers, but not one that she minded at all.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and Arya could feel her skin tingling all the way to her scalp, as though she had jumped into boiling water. Gendry's eyes were gleaming blue in the dark light, and she gave an involuntary shutter of breath, surprised at the intensity there.

And then it was over.

"I'm sorry," he grunted, shaking his head. "I'm really drunk. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have... You probably..."

Arya felt the cold air swoosh in from the window and settle in her bones. Without saying a word, she turned and curled onto the mattress away from him. _Who cares anyway? _She reminded herself.

He was just a stupid bastard.


	20. Starry Eyed

**Gendry**

Gendry awoke the next morning with his arm draped around a small body curved against his own**. **He felt a sort of peacefulness as his eyes fluttered open, the feel of someone so close to him. For once in what seemed like such a long time, there was no gaping hole of loneliness gnawing away within his chest. For the first morning in a long time, he woke up fully and utterly content.

But then he had to wake up, and he looked down, and the person that slept within his arms, that was so close he could feel her breath rise and fall, was Arya. And it came all rushing back in the form of a horrible headache. The drinking. Her anger.

He had kissed her.

He sat up on the mattress and squeezed his fingers to his eyes, trying to block out the horrible pounding in his head, but it was no use. He could not undo what he had done, and he had fucked things up royally.

_She trusted you, _he thought in despair. _You're her protector, her guardian, and you've utterly and totally betrayed her trust and abused your power. _How could he have been so stupid? How could he have taken advantage of her like that?

He scooted further away from her, terrified that she might awaken and find him so close. His memory of the kiss was muddled, but he had a distinct picture of her eyes, glittering furiously in the dark, and that was enough. He could not imagine what she would be like when she woke up, but the thought of her being frightened of him chilled him more than any cold. How could he have been so _stupid_?

Should he apologize? He wondered. But that seemed like it would make things horribly worse. And he had no idea what Arya would be like when she woke up, so maybe he should just wait and feel things out with her. But... It was so mucked up, and he had done it and-He felt like punching something. _Stupid, worthless bastard._

But why had he done it? Was he really that drunk?

No.

He didn't want to think about it, but a certain panic was seizing up inside him and he got up and went to the bathroom and locked the door, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to tell himself over and over again... But it was no use. He knew, in some place of honesty that could not be ignored, what this all meant and why he had done it, and the drink might have helped things along but it wasn't the cause. He was the cause.

Things were bitterly going from bad to worse, and Gendry tried to splash water on his face and talk himself out of it, but it was folly. Admitting it to himself would create a bitter taste on his tongue and a string of problems that he would never be able to repair, so he did not. He refused for this to be the truth. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. He liked this plan.

But what about Arya? It was clear, abundantly clear, that he could not go with her to Riverrun. He did not trust himself anymore, and it was better for her that she should be away from him. She would probably welcome that anyway. Once she was safe with her family, she would want nothing to do with him, and it was better that way. Besides, Gendry didn't know if he wanted to work for Robb Stark anyways. He had seen the horrible things that the mob was doing and he was tired of it. He was tired of the fighting and he wanted to do something good for a change.

The solution came to him in a moment of sweeping revelation. He would join the Brotherhood. Relief expanded in his chest as Gendry realized the perfection of this plan. Lem had already offered for him to join, but he had refused on account of Arya, but now that they were so close to getting her home and she didn't want him anymore, what more of a perfect way to make a clean, appropriate split than to join the Brotherhood? It would solve everything.

There came a knock at the door, and Gendry opened the door to see a buck naked Tom standing there, yawning and rubbing his jaw.

"Time to get going mate," he said sleepily. "Got ourselves a bus outside."

A bus? Brow crinkled in confusion, Gendry went in the main room to see Arya hanging out the window, looking at something. Forgetting himself, Gendry went to join her.

To his surprise there was a bus. A rather big one and the other members of the Brotherhood were loading their supplies onto it and thanking the woman who apparently owned the Peach for having them.

"Where'd they get a bus?" Gendry asked, frowning.

"Him," Arya said, pointing. Gendry squinted.

There was a blonde haired boy, about Arya's age, who had just gotten off the bus, and who Beric was thumping on the back and saying something too. Gendry had never seen him before, but it was apparent that he knew the Brotherhood rather well. Maybe he was even a member.

"Who is he?" He wondered.

"No idea," Arya said curtly, drawing away from him abruptly and folding her arms around herself. Gendry's heart sank into his knees.

"Arya, I-"

"I think we should get going," she said in a rush, cutting across him, and she swiped up her red jacket and left, taking the stairs two at a time before he could say anything else. His apology was left hanging in the air, but maybe it was for the best. She obviously didn't want to hear it, and as for him telling her plan, she probably didn't want to hear that either. Getting his own jacket, Gendry followed her down to the bus.

"Well done Ned," Beric was saying to the blonde boy. "Never did meet a better car thief than this kid, and a whole bus at that?"

He laughed heartily as Ned blushed shyly.

"It was nothing, really," he said, shaking his long hair into his eyes. Gendry and Arya stood awkwardly apart.

"Oh right, introductions," Beric said, as if remembering them. "Edric, this is Arya Stark, you know her, don't you?"

"I've heard of her," Edric said bashfully, chancing a glance at Arya. "Your father was Ned Stark."

Arya didn't say anything, but Gendry could feel the ripple of pain that coursed through her at the mention of her father.

"Edric's like a son to me," Beric said, patting Edric's shoulder. "I've taught him everything he knows. He hasn't been with us, on account of trying to get us some transportation for the lady."

He nodded to Arya.

"Well done Ned." Edric flushed.

"I'm Edric Dayne," he said politely to Arya, extending his hand to hers. She took it and smiled at him. For some reason this settled darkly with Gendry. He shook it off.

"Nice to meet you," she said curtly. They dropped hands, and Edric looked curiously at Gendry. Arya seemed to notice. "This is Gendry," she said flatly. "He's been hired as my protector until I get to Riverrun."

There it was. Her protector. Nothing more, nothing less. Until she got to Riverrun, and then he was useless.

"Hello," Edric said, almost frightened. Gendry was too preoccupied with the emotions surging within him to do anything except grimace.

"The ride to Riverrun's about a day or so from here," Beric told them. "So we'll have to stop off somewhere for the night, but for the most part, we'll get you to your brother soon."

Arya nodded but she didn't say anything else. She was more quiet and withdrawn than usual, and that was Gendry's fault. He hated himself for it.

They all got on the bus, and to Gendry made a point to get on first, and sat down, so that Arya could chose to sit where she liked. She sat towards the front of the bus and away from him. Edric Dayne sat on the seat across from her. A twinge of something boiled within Gendry, and again he tried to shrug it off.

They drove for about an hour or so in silence, but every fifteen minutes or so, Edric Dayne would shoot Arya a shy look from under his hair, and Gendry couldn't help but feel his mood blacken a shade every time he did. It began to rain around noon as they stopped to get a quick lunch and make a bathroom break, and as they all scrambled back to the bus, sandwiches in hand, Edric Dayne sighed.

"I hate the rain," he said to Arya. "My hair always gets in my eyes."

"Then cut it," Gendry snapped before he could stop himself, and then mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. What was wrong with him anyway? He was acting like a two-year-old.

"Ignore him," Arya said as they got back on the bus. "He's an idiot."

Edric smiled, but then caught the look on Gendry's face and gave a squeak of fright. They all took up their old seats. Gendry sat down hard and tried to absorb himself in his sandwich. It was an endeavor of little success.

"I'm from Dorne," Edric piped up.

"Oh that's nice," Arya said. "I've never been there."

"Oh," Edric sighed, sounding slightly dejected. "So then you haven't heard of Starfall mansion then, I take it?"

"No," Arya said through a mouthful of sandwich as Gendry moodily picked at his. "Why?"

"It's my house," Edric said, shy again. "Or it was my house. I mean, it still is, just not until I come of age."

"But I thought you were... You and Beric..." Arya frowned, confused.

"Beric was my Dad's good friend," Edric explained quietly, "Before he died. My parents both died when I was little and I've been in Beric's care until I can claim my inheritance."

"Oh," Arya said. Gendry felt a twinge of sympathy for Edric Dayne, but only just.

"Yeah once I turn eighteen, I'll move back there and take over the family empire," Edric said with pride. Gendry rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Shut it you!" Arya snapped at him, turning around and chucking her apple at him. It hit his head rather painfully.

"Oww!" Gendry grumbled, messaging his head. "What kind of rich man's daughter chucks apple's at people?"

"This kind," Arya said, glaring at him, and she turned back to Edric and listened attentively as he babbled on stupidly.

Gendry tried to ignore it, but it was grating on his nerves. What did he care if Edric Dayne and Arya were friends? Even more than friends? He had already told himself that he and Arya were an inappropriate match, and Arya clearly didn't want anything to with him, so why was Edric bothering him so much? Was it because he was nice? Had everything Gendry didn't? Or was it the way he kept looking at Arya?

It was late in the evening when they pulled into a motel parking lot. Gendry's bones were stiff and cold as he lumbered out of the truck, Edric and Arya still talking. She had slipped so quickly from his fingers, and now he was nothing. The night sky, dark and lacking stars seemed to make him feel even more empty and alone.

There were an odd number of them, but Arya was the only girl, so she had to have a room alone. Beric ordered two others rooms (they couldn't afford more), so it was clear that Gendry would most likely be in for a rough night on the floor. At this point, he didn't care. He was tired, and hungry.

There was a small, cheap diner attached to the hotel, so they all went there for dinner and crowded into a large booth. Arya pulled her hood over her face so that she wouldn't be recognized and Gendry did the same. The last thing they needed was to be so close to Riverrun, and then get caught.

"Tomorrow you'll see your family," Edric said to Arya as they munched on greasy fries. "Are you excited?"

Arya caught Gendry's eye, and he could tell it was so much more than excitement that she was feeling.

"Yes," she said hoarsely.

"And what about you, Gendry?" Edric asked timidly. "What are you going to do when you no longer have to protect Arya?"

"I dunno," Gendry grunted. "I suppose I thought... I thought I might join you lot. You know, if you wanted. I'm not a bad fighter, and I can fix just about anything. I figured I could be of help."

"Of course Gendry," Beric said seriously. "We'd be honored."

Gendry's eyes went around the table, and he saw that the Brotherhood were all nodding their heads and smiling at him. He would be welcome with them.

But then he caught Arya's eyes.

He was floored, absolutely breathless, at the amount of pain that was swelling in her eyes like a tremendous storm about to explode. She looked like she couldn't breathe, and her mouth hung open slightly, tears shimmering... But he had thought she would be happy... He thought she didn't want anything to do with him...

"I'm tired," she said abruptly. "I want to go back to the hotel."

"That seems like a fine idea," Beric said, and they paid for their meal and stood. Gendry tried to catch Arya's eye, but she wouldn't look at him. She practically ran out of the restaurant, and he went after her, not being able to catch up to her until she was already inside the elevator, trying to get the door to close.

He caught it.

She scowled at him as he went inside. The doors closed.

"Arya I'm-"

"If you want to go and get yourself killed," she spat, "being part of some stupid gang, then I really could care less."

"I thought this would be what you wanted-"

"How perceptive of you," she said viciously, but her voice wavered. "Yes this is exactly what I want."

There was a tremendous ringing silence, and then the door to the second floor opened and Edric Dyane was standing there.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Gendry snarled. "Now piss off."

Edric looked startled.

"I said GO!"

He skirted away, alarmed.

"He's perfectly nice," Arya snapped, rounding on Gendry as Edric went into one of the rooms. "I don't understand why you're being so horrible!"

"Well if you're so in love with him-"

"In _love _with him?" Arya repeated, cutting across Gendry and looking murderous. "I'm NOT in love with him! I never said I was in love with him! What's wrong with you?"

What _was_ wrong with him? He was acting like a complete lunatic. And he just couldn't seem to stop, because every time Edric Dayne popped into his mind, Gendry felt the rushing urge to reach out his hands and strangle him. A crippling jealousy took over, one that he had never experienced before. It was just... Well he was so much better, wasn't he? Gendry was too old, too base-born and inferior in every way. Uneducated, a messy past. Whether he intended it or not, Edric Dayne represented everything in Gendry that he despised.

"You're rude to him, you never even gave him a chance! What's wrong? Hmm? What's wrong with you?" Arya demanded, crossing her arms.

What was wrong with him was that he had feelings for Arya.

"You know what? I'm done. I'm just going to-"

He grabbed her arm and spun her around and her mouth opened, as though she was going to yell at him some more, but she gave a little squeak of indignation because he leaned in and captured his lips with hers.

She stood still, her body rigid, frozen against his lips and he pulled away.

"I'm sor-"

But she grabbed the back of his neck and crashed her lips against his again, gently wrenching her arm from his grasp and looping it around his neck, drawing him close, his form curved against hers. And just like that, Gendry felt as though his mind had burst into flames.

Her tongue sent sparks to his skin, the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck prickling straight. Her fingers roved through his thick black hair as his slid to the small of her back, the heat of her body tingling under his fingers. He couldn't even think. His head was just a messy swirl of things that were registering at the speed of light. Her lips. Her fingers. Her. Arya. Everything was Arya.

She let go of him, and they stared at each other, flush in the face.

"Why did you apologize you idiot?" She asked breathlessly. "Why did you ever apologize?"

Gendry tried to answer, but he was tongue tied.

"Would you like to come to my room?" She asked boldly, a wild fire in her eyes that he had never seen before.

"I... I... That is if you're sure..." Gendry stuttered out. It felt like a dream. She smiled. A real, radiant smile.

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't," she said, linking her fingers with his, and then like he was some sort of drift wood, she dragged him to her room and unlocked the door. He trailed after her inside, and they were surrounded by darkness. Her eyes shimmered at him in the gloom.

Gently, he leaned down, taking her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. The key slipped from her fingers and he felt her hands travel up the cloth of his shirt, ghosting gently against the fabric, and then her fingers were weaving themselves through his hair as she leaned up on tiptoe...

He felt a hunger start at the pit of his stomach and slid his tongue into her mouth, kissing her like a drowning man. He wanted her to be everywhere, and she was, filling up the hole in his chest and he... He realized in that moment that he would never let her go.

She grabbed him by the collar and walked backwards towards the bed, his eyes never leaving hers, and as her knees hit the mattress, and she sank backwards, Gendry felt himself curve towards her, like a magnet, and his lips captured hers right before she lay flat. They kissed... And kissed... Her hand slid its way under his shirt, sending chills rippling over his skin, stopping at his beating heart.

"I want you."

It was so soft, she whispered it against his lips, that he might have dreamt it. But when Gendry pulled back, he saw that he didn't.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her voice was raspy.

"Have you ever-"

"No."

He paused for a moment, but she brought her hands to his face and kissed him softly, paused, and then brought herself up, pushing him backwards so that he fell on the bed. His face still in her hands, she kissed him feverishly, her hands on his wrists, draw them up to the place above her breasts, and then they almost fell like gravity, and he felt a tightness in his pants and groaned involuntarily, feeling his face flush. It had been a long time... A long time...

She threw off her jacket, and then wrestled out of her shirt. Her bra was a ratty old thing, probably one from one of the girls that were at Harrenhal, but in the light she never looked more beautiful, and he reached out a gentle hand and let his fingers trace her skin as she closed her eyes, sighing.

It was too slow. Not enough.

As if catching on, her hands were clawing at his shirt, and Gendry yanked it off, feeling a shutter of relief as her hands ran themselves over his skin as he leaned in and kissed the soft skin of her neck, his fingers struggling with the straps of the bra, pushing it off and then finding the tender skin of her breasts, hearing her moan...

They were desperate. Parched. Drowning.

Arya pushed Gendry back and undid the buckle of his pants, her hands moving slowly down, he gasped aloud and jerked, and then he was sitting up, pushing her pants down roughly, flipping her around and then sliding a finger down... Feeling her until she could barely stand it, pulling her underwear off and then, trailing his mouth down until he tasted her, and she gasped and yanked at his hair until she nearly pulled it out, shuttering.

After she was done, he laid his head against her shoulder, just breathing.

"Yes," she whispered in his ear, as if giving him the final permission, and he looked straight into her eyes until they finally came together, and his heart swelled so much it might have burst, and it was on his lips but never quite made it out. _I love you... I love you..._

ooooOOOOoooo

**Arya**

It was early in the morning, and Gendry was asleep. His breathing was deep, and the stupid look on his face... Arya let a finger trace from his forehead to his nose. His arms were draped around her, perfectly heavy with sleep. She smiled.

Getting up, she fancied a shower. She was sore down between her legs, but it wasn't a bad kind of sore, and as she rolled away from Gendry's warmth, she smiled again. She hadn't felt this kind of happy in so very long...

The bathroom light barely worked, and it kept flickering, but it didn't matter. The water was warm, and Arya washed her hair and body almost regretfully... It felt too soon, like she was washing away every moment, every touch... She could almost see them, sliding off her body and spiraling down the drain.

But then again, that was what was going to happen? Wasn't it? He was going to leave her. He said so last night. He was going to drop her off with her brother and then become one of the Brotherhood.

_Maybe he won't now, _a small voice in her head said as she got out of the shower. But that was stupid. She wasn't some naive little girl, and thinking that made her feel like one. _He's leaving you, _she thought harshly as she exited the bathroom. _He' leaving you and that's all there is to it._

Everyone left in the end anyway.

It was with a heavy heart that she put on her clothes, Gendry still sleeping, and she couldn't help but feel her thoughts tangling up in her head. Unable to bare the noise, or the swelling sadness in her chest, grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, looking for her shoes.

"... In a shocking and horribly violent mass murder now known as the Red Wedding..."

More awful news was it? Maybe she should just turn it off.

"... Robb Stark..."

Arya froze, her blood turning to ice. Suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"... His body was found this morning by authorities, decapitated and thrown in a dumpster. Stark, along with his mother Catelyn, were both tragically killed, her body found an hour later, naked in a river..."

The images were flashing on the screen in a blur, and suddenly everything was crumbling and sliding out of control, and Arya's hands were shaking as reality slid off the world in a great big heap...

"Police are currently looking into who could have done this crime, but for now that remains unknown. The bodies are currently in police custody, and the whereabouts of Sansa Stark are unknown as well... Though she is presumed dead..."

And just like that. Everything shattered into a million pieces.

**Don't hate me.**


	21. Radioactive

**Gendry**

There was a crackling sound drawing Gendry out of the haze of perfect sleep and he groaned. As his eyes, crusted with dreams, blinked open, he felt a rush of happiness he knew to be associated with Arya, and still not fully in control of all his thoughts, he reached out, dazed, to her. His hand touched cold bed.

Gendry blinked, and then sat bolt upright, his head spinning, everything coming back.

"Arya?"

The television was on, and he reached for the remote to turn it off, until finally, as if he had suddenly regained all hearing, the words that were being said crashed into his ears.

"... Murdered... Killer still unknown... Police investigation..." His entire body went completely cold with a horrible dread and he found himself gasping for breath but there was none. _Arya._

"Arya?" His voice broke, weak and hoarse.

There was silence.

Then he was scrambling, falling out of bed with a crash, struggling with his shorts as he shouted her name, banging open the bathroom door even though he knew she wasn't there. He went into a blind panic.

"Arya!"

He threw open the door to an empty hallway, and it banged behind him as he flew to the rooms across the hall where the others were, banging his fists madly against the door shouting her name until Beric wrenched the door open.

"Where's Arya?" Gendry bellowed, grabbing Beric, but he didn't even have to answer for Gendry to know she was not with them.

He dropped Beric and bolted, racing down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator was too slow, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears, his stomach churning so fast he thought he might vomit.

"Arya! ARYA!"

He tore out of the lobby and into the parking lot, shouting for her like a mad man, and then ran out into the street, screaming for her. But she was gone. She did not answer. There was no whisper of her anywhere, and to matter how loud he roared her name, no matter how raw his lungs were, she could not hear him.

"FUCK!" He shouted raking his hands through his hair and clenching fistfuls of hair in his panicked rage. His breath was choking him.

"Gendry!" It was Edric, running towards him. "What's going on?"

The world was spinning around him at top speed.

"Where's Arya?"

Gendry tried to answer him but there was something else choking him.

"She's... She's..." His voice broke. "Fuck! She's gone!"

"What?" Edric looked panicked. "What did you do?"

Gendry looked over at Edric incredulously.

"I would never hurt her!" He roared, grabbing Edric by the shirt, his hands shaking. "You understand? NEVER!"

"Gendry!"

Suddenly Beric was there, throwing Gendry off Edric, who was shaking like a leaf, the little fucking coward. As if he could have taken Gendry on, and how dare he? How dare he? Beric laid his hand on Gendry's shoulder, and it was then that Gendry realized he was shaking form head to toe.

"I saw what was on the television," Beric said gently.

"She's gone!" Gendry gasped. "Fuck she's gone... She's gone and I was... I was supposed to protect her..." Every word shook.

"We'll find her-"

But Beric's words blurred together into nothing. He was supposed to have protected her, Yoren had given him one job before he died, it had been Ned Stark's last wish... And he had failed her. He had failed her in everything.

"Come on let's get dressed," Beric was saying. "Time is of the essence!"

Everything was a whirl as Gendry let them lead him back to the hotel, and then he was shoving his clothes on, and refusing breakfast because it would take too much time, but no matter how hard he fought with the other men, they insisted they needed food. While Lem and Tom shoved cereal down their throats, they decided where to look for her.

"She's gone to Winterfell," Gendry said firmly, without a doubt.

"But Winterfell's ruined," Edric said. "Theon Greyjoy burned it to the ground!"

"It doesn't matter," Gendry cut across him, and then felt guilty at the look on his face. He was only trying to help. "It's her home. It's the only thing she has left."

"It's too dangerous," Beric argued. "It'll be right where Tywin's expecting her to go, what with Joffrey..."

"What happened with Joffrey?" Gendry demanded.

"He's dead," Beric said. "Poisoned. They think it was Sansa Stark."

Gendry felt his throat go dry.

"We have to go," he said with fierce determination. "We can't leave her out there on her own! Tywin will kill her!"

"It's too risky-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Gendry shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. There was a ringing silence. "I don't care damn it! We can't leave her! We can't leave her out on her own, she's all alone... Her family is dead... We can't..."

He turned away wretchedly, tears burning at the back of his eyes.

"Gendry's right," Edric spoke up. "We have to find her."

A rush of utter gratefulness overtook Gendry, and when he met Edric's eyes, there was an understanding between the two of them. Beric struggled silently for a few moment, his eyes dark and his mouth clenched.

"Yes," he said with an exhausted sigh. "We can't leave her at the mercy of Tywin."

"I'm sorry," Anguy said, shaking his head. "I'm out. I can't afford to get caught just for some little girl. My record's too big."

Beric nodded in understanding, but no one else made a move to abandon them. After Anguy left, they all seemed silently resolved to find Arya and keep her safe. Gendry could have kissed them all.

With grim faces they all piled into the bus and turned North. Beric drove, and Gendry sat in the seat right behind him, his eyes peeled against the road, looking for a blur of red against the green of the forests that popped up thicker and thicker as they went on. Every mile or so they would stop and call Arya's name under their lungs were raw, and if they came past a town, they'd ask around everywhere to see if anyone had seen a young girl with short hair in a red jacket. They had not.

Darkness fell and still there was no sign of her. No one said anything about stopping, and they hadn't eaten all day, but there was a tense silence. No one would sleep or eat until they got to Winterfell.

Gendry couldn't help but feel more and more desperate as darkness crept around the bus. The thought of Arya alone and consumed with grief... Anything could happen to her. He gripped the seat so tight his hands hurt.

"What is-FUCK!" Beric screamed as suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the headlights from the bus caught a roadblock only a few yards away. Beric slammed on the breaks, trying to stop the bus, but they were going to fast, and as he spun away from the roadblock, Gendry caught a quick flash of who it was standing outside with all those police cars. An utterly drenching shutter of fear shot through him just as they spun away, and Beric lost control of the bus, sending them crashing and rolling into the darkness of the underbrush.

Gendry was thrown forward, his hands snatching wildly at the seat but in vain, and he crashed through the glass of the windshield, his body withering against the shattering glass. Incredible, horrible pain seared everywhere with such blinding force that Gendry opened his mouth, sucking at air but nothing came in. He felt his body hit and roll against the ground, and could faintly hear the sound of the bus crunching to a stop some ways off put everything was fogged over with crippling pain. He heard another sound too, and realized that it was coming from him. He was screaming.

He could feel himself slipping before he did. Just before he fell back into blackness, there was the soft sound of feet, and then, just as his eyes fluttered closed, the face of Tywin Lannister leaned over him and smiled.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooo

Gendry woke up blind.

Light oozed, and all he knew was that his body was broken everywhere, and he could taste blood in his mouth. His head lulled uselessly from side to side, and his eyes fluttered open and closed, swollen and tender. Something strained tightly against his wrists and it felt like there was glass in his leg and side. There probably was.

"Oh good you're awake."

He did not know the voice of the woman who spoke to him well, but Gendry, half blind with pain or not, knew Cersei Lannister when he saw her. She towered over him in the bright, searing light, her glare unforgiving. Ironically she looked like some sort of demented angel. Gendry had the urge to laugh.

"Where..." He gasped, his lip was busted, it bled into his mouth. "Where... Where is she?"

"As if you didn't know," Cersei snarled with hatred. "You lying bastard! You think you can fool me?"

"You don't know," Gendry sighed with relief. "You don't know. She's okay."

Well, he hardly knew, but they didn't have her, that was plain, and right now that was enough.

"Don't play games with me!" Cersei shouted, grabbing Gendry's shirt. "Tell me where she is! Tell me where the little whore is!"

"I don't know," Gendry laughed. It hurt to laugh. He probably had cracked a rib. "I don't know, and neither to you."

Cersei let go, and said something, and before Gendry knew what was happening, a fist was hitting him in the face, and he went crashing to the floor, chair and all. He screamed in pain. The fist had brass knuckles. The skin over his nose had ripped open and blood flowed into his mouth. The chair was yanked back up, and then the fist buried itself in Gendry's stomach. He spat blood.

"Now maybe you'll be more interested in opening up to me," Cersei said, and her face swam close to Gendry's. "Tell me... Where is the girl?"

"I already told you..." Gendry gasped. "I told you I don't know! She left..."

"Liar," Cersei hissed softly. "You'll go on lying too, won't you? Bring in the small one, maybe then he'll talk!"

Gendry blinked, and then suddenly they were dragging a bloody mess in, and when they wrenched it around, he saw the face of Edric Dayne, terrified and weeping, tears smearing with the large amount of blood on his face. Gendry reeled back in panic. No, no not this! No!

They pointed a gun at Edric's head.

"I'll give you three seconds," Cersei said coldly.

"NO!" Gendry shouted. "No I told you! I TOLD YOU I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"One."

"LET HIM GO I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! SHE RAN AWAY! SHE LEFT US! PLEASE I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS!"

"Two."

"I DON'T KNOW DAMN YOU!" Gendry roared, kicking wildly but unable to move his legs. "I DON'T KNOW! JUST PLEASE! _Please_-"

"Three."

"I don't-"

_BANG!_

Gendry screamed and screamed in horrible terror and devastation as Edric's brains splattered against the white walls, blood gushing from his head as he fell with a dull thump, dead, against the ground, his head finally resting in a pool of his own blood. Gendry began to sob in earnest. He had never wanted this. Edric... Edric...

"He was just a kid!" Gendry screamed at Cersei. "You didn't have to do that! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING YOU COLD-HEARTED BITCH!"

A thug made a move to hit him, but Cersei held up a hand. Her eyes were pure steel.

"He's telling the truth," she said with grim finality. "He doesn't know where she is."

There was a swelling silence, and Gendry glared at her, hating her more than he had ever hated anyone in his entire life.

"Are you going to kill me then?" He asked bitterly, cynically almost.

Cersei held his gaze.

"No," she said, not to him really, but to the thug. "You'll be so much more useful alive. Break his arm and ink him. Make sure he doesn't try anything ever again."

Without so much of a shiver of remorse, she turned on her heel, stepped over Edric's dead body, and left the room. There was a moment of silence, and then the thug took a step forward and broke his arm. Gendry let out a shriek, roaring until his lungs went raw, and then he shook from head to toe, leaned over and vomited, still shaking.

A hand forced him to lean forward, and when he tried to fight it off, there were three more there holding him firm. No matter how hard Gendry wrenched and swore and gasped, it was no use. The fight was over, and at last, utterly defeated, his head hung forward, and he barely made a sound as he felt the bite of the needle pierce his neck.

**Three Years Later**

Janos Slynt sat in the seat closest to the window, though why he did remained unseen. It was pitch black outside and there were no lights from any city or town. They wouldn't be seeing anything out of a window for at least an hour or so, as that was how long the journey to Kings Landing would take. There was nothing to see but maybe faint outlines of trees. So why Janos chose the window seat was a bit of a mystery. Maybe he sat by the window so that he wouldn't have to sit near the old man in the smelly coat who had chosen to sit directly in the middle towards back of the car, by the refreshments bar.

Janos's eyes, far from watching what was going on outside the window, flitted every so often to the girl behind the counter. She was very pretty, with voluptuous blond hair, a round face and a bosom that would put most of the whores he had seen in his life time to shame, and Janos's eyes not so much lingered on her face, but at the breasts that strained against the tightness of her shirt. He contemplated buying a drink and chatting her up.

The rest of the train cars were empty and dark, and this one was just as dirty as all the rest. The lights cast Janos's skin a pale green, and the red veins in his eyes seemed to stand out more than usual as he gave himself a quick look over in the reflection of the window. The car smelled too, and there were wrappers from candy and eaten sandwiches scattered across the floor. Had the girl at the counter not been so pretty, Janos would have complained. As it was, he did not.

"Where's Rudy?" The old man piped up to the girl at the counter. He wore a ripped and used sweater with spilled coffee on it and a tan jacket that had dirty sleeves. Janos smoothed out the sleeves of his own jacket, which was white and clean and new, courtesy of Cersei Lannister. Janos detested anything as dirty and horrid and unkempt as the man that now spoke. "He usually works this shift."

"What, the all-nighter?" The girl asked, flipping her long, thick hair over her shoulder. "Know him do you?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "I work long shifts up North and come down South for the weekends."

"Got family down there have you?" The girl asked kindly and Janos couldn't help but be put out that her attention was attracted at that smelly old man and not him.

The old man did not say anything.

"Rudy's ill," the girl said. She didn't seem to mind that he hadn't answered her previous question. "So I came in."

"I haven't seen you around," the old man said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'm new," she said with a sigh. "Second day."

"You're doing a lovely job."

This time it wasn't the old man that spoke, but Janos. He got up and smiled at her. She smiled back as he walked over to the bar and placed his hands against it.

"What can I get for you sir?" She asked, her large grey eyes docile.

"A whiskey," he said, looking her up and down. She smiled again and turned to fix his drink. Janos took this opportunity to admire the curve of her bottom.

"It's just," the old man croaked up annoyingly from behind Janos where he sat, "Rudy always tells me the news. He's very knowledgeable when it comes to what's going on in the world."

"Oh really?" The girl asked, looking around Janos, much to his irritation. "Like what?"

"Like what's going on with all the attacks, and all them crime people," the old man said. Janos paid for the drink and tried to wink at her, but the girl was all ears for the stupid old man. Janos scowled and stomped back towards his seat.

"You mean the mob?" the girl asked and Janos froze. The old man nodded.

"Do you know much about it?" The old man asked. "Rudy is always watching the news. Last I heard, three men that used to work for Robb Stark went missing a couple of weeks ago."

The girl shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "Watching the news isn't really my thing, but I heard from somebody that Joffrey Lannister died in some sort of freak accident?"

"It weren't no freak accident," the old man said darkly. "He died three years ago, and the police suspect it were murder that done it."

"Murder?" The girl said. Then she sighed and shook her head again. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah it's Cersei that runs the casino now," the old man told her. "Got it heavily guarded too. I hear no one without a special card can get in."

"That's right," Janos said, eager to impress the girl at the counter, "only those that are on the inside can get in."

"How do you know that?" The girl asked, wide eyed and demure. Janos grinned.

"Cuz I got one," he said proudly.

"You do?" The girl gasped. "But how?"

"Might be because I know Cersei personally," Janos said, enjoying the look of utter awe on her face. He could almost feel the shag he was going to have with her. "She trusts me more than most folk."

"Then why are you on this train and not in Kings Landing?" The old man grunted from his seat.

"I'm on my way to King's Landing you stupid old sack," Janos growled, getting tired of his interrupting. "Cersei sent for me, personally."

"So you must know everything about it then," the girl said in wonder.

"That I do, but I'm sworn to secrecy," Janos said with a wink. She looked let down. The old man snorted.

"Do you know anything about... Well I heard there was this like sort of gang, called the Brotherhood," the girl asked shyly. "Have you ever heard of them?"

"An urban myth," Janos said with a wave of his hand. "They don't exist."

"I hear they exist," the old man piped up. "I hear Cersei Lannister rounded them up and shot them one by one and then dumped their bodies in the ocean."

The girl turned considerably pale, the blood draining from her face and her hands shaking against the counter. Janos found his irritation with the nosy old man mounting. But... Well she just looked so distressed. He walked over to the counter and patted her hand in what he hoped was a very comforting gesture.

"He's just pissing in the wind," Janos told her reassuringly. "The Brotherhood was just a load of bullshit made up by the Starks to scare the public."

"That's not what I heard," the old man said, interrupting again without fail, "Rudy told me that they caught the Brotherhood and took 'em to a warehouse and shot each one through the head. A butcher it was, he said. Just like they did Ned Stark."

"That old man deserved what he got," Janos grunted, though Ned Stark was hardly older than himself when he had been murdered. "As well as those Brotherhood bastards, if they do exist."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Janos tasted something foul and bitter on his tongue, as though his body was trying to tell him that the words that had just come his mouth were the words that would end his life. If it was, he didn't have time to react. One moment his hand was over the girls, the next second hers was gone with a flash of blond hair, and when Janos whipped around, he just barely saw the gun aimed at his temple before it when off and his brains were splattered across the train car, his body flying backwards and then falling.

The old man screamed as the girl leapt onto the counter with the dexterity of a cat, and then, with movements so liquid and robotic that they were almost inhumane, she spun around and reached out for the security camera, twisting it with a practiced jerk as if it were a bird's neck, tearing it from the wall. She leapt from the counter, security camera in hand, and then filled a pitcher full of beer, the old man watching her in horrified disbelief. Not even looking at him, she shoved the camera in the pitcher.

"Erases fingerprints," she said casually as he gibbered, gasping for breath, the utter terror on his face evident.

The train began to slow, and the girl looked up and then reached under the counter, grabbing a black duffle bag and shoving her gun in it. She jumped over the counter again and went over to Janos's body, turning his head over with the heal of her boot, a look of disgust and hatred on her face. Bending down, she put on a latex glove and then reached inside the pocket of his suit, fishing around and then pulling out a card.

She put it in her pocket and then stood, removing the glove and putting it in her bag. She turned and advanced towards the old man, his hands shaking.

"Are you going to kill me too?" His voice cracked and there were tears in his eyes.

"Come on," she said almost gently, and to his surprise she reached out and helped him to his feet, her arm around his back. She lead him towards the door.

"You shouldn't have done that," the old man said quietly. "A nice girl like you shouldn't have killed a nice man like that."

"He wasn't a nice man," the girl said, her eyes hard as ice, "and I'm not a nice girl."

The train slowed to a stop, and she braced the old man so that he did not fall when the train came to a final screeching stop. There was a moment of utter silence, and then the doors opened, and she helped him onto the empty and deserted platform.

"Tell the police," the girl said, taking the mans wrinkled hand in hers and looking him square in the eyes. "You tell them what I looked like and what I did. You tell them I did it and I swear I'll never come looking for you. Don't be afraid."

"What about Rudy?" The old man asked, tears still leaking from his eyes. "Did you kill him too?"

"No," she said gently, shaking her head. "He'll be alright, I promise."

There was another moment as the air whooshed through the silent and dark station, the street lamps flickering dully, the buzzing sound of electricity crackling through the air. Somewhere far off, there were shouts and laughter.

"I've got somewhere I have to be," the girl said as though they had passed a casual hour on the train together with no minor interruptions. "Are you going to be all right?"

The old man looked at her.

"How could you do it?" He asked. "A nice girl like you?"

She gave him a wry smile.

"I thought I told you," she said almost sadly. "I'm not a nice girl."

She gave his hand one last, affectionate squeeze before she let go, and then she turned and walked away and the old man watched her go. He watched her go down the platform until she melded with the darkness and disappeared from sight like a shadow. And then even after that, he watched the darkness.

The girl walked down from the platform and down a set of stairs that lead to a tunnel under the track. The look on her face was of someone who knew where they were going, and yet... There was something very unfamiliar about her, something not right. Nothing the average passerby would see... But if they really looked at her face...

There was a public toilet and she went in, locking the door behind her. She took a look at herself in the mirror, the faulty lights cutting and gorging out the shadows of her face, before she sighed, curled her fingers under the place where her blonde hair began and pulled. The wig came off cleanly, and she opened the bag and dropped it in, raking her fingers over the hair net that had been pulled tight under the wig and letting her long, dark hair fall loose around her shoulders.

With precise haste, she removed her skin tight pink top and then the gel cups in her bra, putting them in the bag as well. She shook off the shoes that gave her three inches more in height and the faded jeans as well. In just a bra and underwear, she opened another compartment of the bag and got out what looked like a strip of black tape. Curling it around the smallness of her waist, she strapped it around and then secured on it what looked like a small hand gun and a retractable knife, along with several packets of ammunition.

Next, she put on a pair of black pants and a grey tank top, adding a switch blade to the pocket on her pants. Then she looked in the mirror at the pretty face that stared back at her. Without batting an eyelash, the girl leaned forward and turned on the water, leaning her head down and washing away the face that Janos Slynt had found so attractive.

When she straightened up, it was like looking at a stranger.

She had not looked at the face of Arya Stark in a very long time.

Even thinking the name was strange, and it brought on a sense of incredible loneliness and vulnerability that displayed itself on her face in a look of deep disgust. She hated feeling lonely and vulnerable, but she also hated being a coward, and that's what she had to do. She had to face her fear, stop being a coward and face herself. Her worst enemy.

Arya reached down, and ripped off two Velcro patches on the black bag, making it look like it was not just a solid black bag anymore, but one with two grey patches. She stuffed the patches in the trash and then slung her bag over her shoulder, walking out of the restroom as a completely different person with a completely different face and a completely different bag.

The girl with the blonde hair was still in the bathroom. Arya Stark walked free.

She walked briskly, every step increasing her speed, but nothing about her seemed unnatural or panicked. In fact, she was filled with purpose, her eyes steely in the dark, her mouth set in a thin line. She walked out of the tunnel, up the stairs, and then down a thin alley and into the city, emerging from the dark only when she passed under a flickering street light. Cars drove past, men slept on the streets, drunk and stinking, but they didn't even garner a look from the girl with her hood pulled up and her bag slug over her shoulder.

She took a sharp turn and then walked down an alley, taking another off beaten road and winding towards the docks, hurrying down the stairs to where a large junkyard sat, a few feet up from the silent black waters. Unceremoniously she dropped the bag, ripped it open, and got out a small container. Unscrewing the top, and crinkling her nose at the smell of gasoline, Arya poured it over the bag, and then threw the container in the water.

Casually, she got out a piece of paper with the blonde haired girls name and identity, lit it, and then let it drop on the soaked bag. It burst into crackling flames, burning bright and hot in the blackness. Arya took out a cigarette and lit it against the flames.

She took a drag, watching all forms of hiding burn and melt together into molten ash.

There was no time for lingering. It was going to get light soon, and by then Arya had to complete the job. She knew by the maps that she had studied that she was only a few blocks from the Red Keep, and she hurried up away from the burning bag and towards her goal. Her handgun felt hot against her skin, and the image of Cersei, bloodied and dead, burned even hotter in her mind. Tonight she avenged her family.

She had Janos's card, but she wasn't stupid enough to use it. Anyone with eyes could see she wasn't a balding older man, and she'd get caught by security within a matter of seconds. Still, it was always good to have a plan B.

You could hear the sound of the casino a block away. Arya scanned the area of the alley she stood in. She needed to find a point of vantage, to analyze the scene. Spying a fire escape, she leapt onto a dumpster and took a running jump, her hands locking on the bottom of the latter and yanked it down with her weight. Without wasting a second, she crawled up, reaching the escape, and then silently, like a ghost, she scaled up to the roof.

She had been right to do this. The alley by the back door of the casino was being guarded by a Lannister thug in a white jacket. Just like a mouse waiting innocently for the cat to pounce and rip it apart. So stupid.

He paced idly in and out of the light, and careful as a shadow, Arya found another fire escape and slithered down it, pausing on one of the landings, only a few feet above him. She steeled herself, and took a deep breath.

She sat crouched over him, Needle gripped in her hand. The thug stood in the pool of light from the street lamp, and just above to collar of his beige suit, she could see the little lion tattooed on his neck. The inked sign of every Lannister man. It seemed to glare and gloat at her, and Arya saw red, tasting his blood in her mouth as she positioned herself to strike.

Like a leaf, she fell to the ground, soft and nimble, just a twist of the shadows. Straightening up slowly, she advanced towards him, gripping her knife in her hand, her eyes on the little lion grinning at her in the dull light. _Swift as a shadow, _she thought quietly, her breath as soft as silence, and then she struck.

Her knife was in the air, and she brought it down, about to drill it into his neck, when he surprised her by whipping around, a thick hand suddenly crushing itself around her wrist, jerking it to a stop, and she wrenched her hand around, effectively breaking his wrist. He let out a roar of pain and crumpled to his knees, and she twisted her wrist away, his fingers slipping from it, Needle ready to slash his throat-

But then he looked up and suddenly she could not breathe. His voice sounded like a million miles away.

"Arya?"

_Gendry._

**We're hitting the home stretch. Only three more chapters to go. **


	22. Lose Yourself

"_Arya."_

He couldn't move, and for a second he thought that everything was falling, and that surely he was in a dream. But it was her. It was _her_. After all this time, after everything she was _here_. She was here and she was trying to kill him. The irony was so piercing that he wanted to laugh, but he couldn't laugh. He couldn't even think because Arya was staring at him in the face and he couldn't believe it.

The look on her face, for a moment, flashed into humanity. Her eyes widened, and there was a twist of her lips, a flicker of something he had only ever seen rarely and almost tenderness... And then it crumpled into total and utter betrayal and her shock allowing for a moment of weakness... But Gendry saw it. He saw the utter devastation there.

"_You_," the devastation was gone so quickly it left him breathless, and suddenly there was no humanity in her face, only rage. Before Gendry could even move she was digging her fingers into his broken wrist, intentionally or not, her expression twisted and her eyes blazing. Either way it was excruciatingly painful.

"Arya..."

There was a bang of a door opening, and Gendry jumped. It would be the guy that replaced him for the next shift.

"You shouldn't be here," Gendry said quickly, pushing her back into the shadows. "If they see you here-"

"Good," Arya snarled. "Let them see me-"

"Is there someone there?" Knox, his fellow door bouncer asked, a cigarette between his lips. "I see a little minx in the shadows. Didn't think you were the type."

Gendry swallowed. Hard.

"Don't tell the boss," he said, his hand gripping into Arya's arm. Knox laughed.

"We all gotta live," he chuckled with a shrug. "Just make sure no one slips past you."

"Oh I've got my eyes peeled," Gendry said, but his voice shook slightly, and he could feel Arya's arm tense in his grip. All he could hear was his heart screaming in his ears as Knox advanced closer. He pushed Arya deeper into the shadows, trying to look as cool as glass, but his forehead was beading with sweat. _If he sees her..._

"Come on love, let's have a look," Knox said, and Gendry jumped backwards. "I've never seen a shy whore before."

"Knox leave off," Gendry said, gripping Arya's arm tight. "I paid for her, not you."

"You're acting awful jumpy," Knox said, taking a drag from his cigarette. "You hiding something Gendry? Not been talking to that homeless drug addict again, have you? Because if you have... Well I'll have to tell her."

Gendry swallowed. Hard.

"Just piss off," he said, turning to get Arya out of there. Now.

"Wait a second... Is that-"

Without even thinking, without even considering how bad this would be, Gendry whipped around, grabbed his gun and shot Knox straight through the head. He fell with a crash, his blood leaking into the street...

"Holy shit!" Arya cried in spite of herself.

"Shut up!" Gendry hissed frantically, whipping around. "We've got to go, NOW! We've got to get you out of here... Somewhere safe..."

Shoving his gun in his pants, Gendry yanked Arya forward, rushing across the alley and then weaving through the shadows, his mind whirling in a frantic frenzy, his heart pounding so hard it might explode-

"Have you gone insane?" Arya's voice cracked as they raced alongside of the casino, and there were shouts coming from the main door...

Gendry didn't respond, but instead grabbed the door of the Pit and thrust it open, dragging her down with him into total and utter darkness. He couldn't even think about it. He had shared cigarettes with Knox between shifts, they had been pleasant to each other... But none of that mattered now, because pleasant or not, the instant Knox would have seen Arya... Gendry felt himself involuntarily squeeze her wrist.

"Let go!" She shrieked, trying to wrench away from him

"Arya listen," he gasped, whipping her around. "Listen to me please! If they find you here... They can't find you here..."

"I'm not afraid!" Arya shouted at him, but he clamped his hand over her mouth. He suddenly felt close to tears. He couldn't lose her. Not again. Not again... Not when she had been the only thing that he had ever cared about.

"Arya please."

Her eyes widened in shock, and again he saw the flash of humanity skirt across her face... And then she let go and stopped struggling, and it was all he could do not to fall down in relief.

"Put your hood on," he commanded and she did as she was told. "Stay close to me."

"You're holding my wrist, I can't do anything but stay close to you."

"Shut up."

They ascended the Pit with a panicked haste, and Gendry opened the door, peering outside to see if there was a commotion going. Just enough distraction to slip her past... Maybe no one would notice...

Sliding his hand from her wrist down to her skin, he linked his fingers with hers thoughtlessly and pulled her forward, his head bent down, his heart racing in his chest. He tried to detach himself from all thought as he wove in and out of the throngs of people like a flash, Arya ever present like a shadow.

He dared not look back at her, he didn't even dare look forward, he just stared at people's feet, rushing past them as they laughed and cheered, enjoying their night. They wove upstairs, blending with the crowd, taking the stairs two at a time, and then Gendry wound around to another hidden stair case, to the floor where he slept. No one was on that stair case and there were no cameras here. Everything that was once a blur of noise and sound began to muffle out. Hands shaking, Gendry grabbed the handle of his door and shoved it open, taking Arya's hand again and yanking her inside.

"They'll be here any second," he said urgently, locking the door. "We don't have much time."

Arya didn't say anything.

"Look," Gendry said, "my wrist... I'll need you to get on the bed. Push the roof, up, there's a panel..."

Wordlessly Arya did as she was told. Hands pushed against the ceiling, she lifted up the panel and pushed it aside. Above her there was a gaping black hole. She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"It's an attic," Gendry said urgently. "Get up there now before they get here to question me. Don't move until I get back."

There was a moment where he thought she might argue with him, but she didn't. Instead, she held out her hand.

"Give me your gun," she said.

"Wha-"

"Now!"

His thoughts whirling into a muddle, Gendry did as he was told. She snatched it from him, grabbed some ammunition from nowhere and reloaded it. Every move was mechanical. Well practiced precision. Gendry realized with horror that she had done this many, many times before. He wondered where she had gone and who she had been when she left him, because she wasn't like the Arya Stark he had known. Nothing like her. Emotionlessly, she handed it back to him.

"There," she said firmly. "Now you never shot anyone."

There was the sound of many footsteps on the stairs. Gendry could feel himself breaking into a sweat and his entire mouth was made of cotton. His hand was still shaking, his other hand limp and useless with his broken wrist.

"Get up there!" He hissed. "Now!"

Arya looked up, and then with a slight bounce on the bed, leapt up, grabbed the sides of the hole and then pulled herself up with fluid ease. She disappeared for a moment in the blackness, and then her face appeared, hanging out of the ceiling.

"What's going to happen to you?" She asked, and for the first time she looked worried.

Gendry swallowed, but his throat was dry and it only hurt.

"I don't know," he said hoarsely.

Then she was gone.

"Open up Waters! We know you're in there!"

Gendry took a deep breath. Ridding his face of all emotion, he reached out a hand that had finally gone steady and opened the door.

"What seems to be the trouble?" He asked with a fake yawn. "I was just about to take off my jacket and have a lie in."

"Knox has just been shot," said Rothe, who had a chunk of his nose missing and could break Gendry's nose like a twig. "Janos Slynt was murdered on a train three hours ago on his way here."

"And what's that got to do with me?" Gendry asked evenly. The muscle in Rothe's jaw jumped.

"You're coming with us," he said in a low voice. "Now."

"All right," Gendry said with a shrug, and he followed them out of his room and down the hall. Cersei knew, of course. She wasn't stupid. But Janos Slynt... Knox, Gendry had killed, but not Janos. And with Arya's sudden arrival, and her attack... She would have killed him too, if he wasn't a ghost from her past... The two events were too close together to be a coincidence. Arya wasn't back just for some girlish attack. She was back to kill.

They went down the hall to a set of thick golden doors. Rothe knocked, and Gendry wasn't surprised when it took only a few moments for the door to open, and they entered. The moment he stepped into the room, he could sense Cersei's edge.

"Well?" She asked her back to them, a glass of scotch in her hand. There was a slight tremor in the way she held the glass... She was terrified, Gendry realized. But how could she be? She had no idea Arya was even in King's Landing, or alive for that matter.

"His room's being searched right now," Rothe said with a grunt.

"Good," Cersei said, taking a sip from her glass. She still did not turn around.

"Why's my room being searched?" Gendry asked in a steady voice. Cersei turned around, her eyes sharp with loathing.

"Knox has just been shot," she said. "Clean execution, bullet straight through the head."

"I know," Gendry said. "I heard. I had nothing to do with it. My shift was over twenty minutes ago."

Cersei's lips pressed together in a thin, leering line. She did not believe him.

"No remorse?" She sighed. "He was your coworker, after all."

"You think I have remorse for any of you?" Gendry spat. Cersei seemed to take a step back as she eyed him coolly, calculating. He held his breath. Now was not the time for his anger. The ice under his feet had already cracked, and all he should be doing now was struggle to stay afloat, not dive into freezing water. Cersei held his gaze.

"Janos Slynt was murdered three hours ago," she said, changing the subject. "By a girl on a train. Another clean shot to the head. She took his ID badge."

Gendry swallowed hard. _Arya._

"Does this not seem strange to you?"

"I dunno," Gendry said darkly, with a shrug, unable to stop himself. His rage was beginning to pulse under his skin. "People die every day. Edric Dayne, Beric, Lem, Tom. _All on the same day_. It wasn't strange then."

Cersei glared.

"Here's the footage from the train," she snarled, throwing a series of photos at Gendry's feet. He bent down and picked them up, trying to hide his broken wrist from Cersei's flashing eyes.

"I don't know this girl," he said, frowning and sighing with relief at the same time. It hadn't been Arya.

"Neither do I," Cersei said softly. "No one does. She doesn't exist."

His eyes snapped up. Cersei was trembling slightly.

"Where is Arya Stark?"

The question hit straight into his chest like a knuckled fist.

"She's gone," Gendry said with what he hoped was a convincing sputter. "She's been gone for three years. No one knows-"

"Show him the footage," Cersei snapped across his fumbling lies. The TV to her right was turned on, and Gendry had nothing to do but watch. At first the picture was blurry... But then his throat went dry. He saw, clear as day, Arya emerging from the tunnel by the train, not even pulling her hood over her head. What was she doing? Didn't she know they'd kill her as soon as they saw her? But then he remembered her words. _Good. I want them to find me._ And just like that, he understood everything. She wanted them to find her. To bring her to Cersei, because it all was coming together. She was going to kill Cersei.

"You're surprised," Cersei sounded gravely disappointed. "Useless, even when I thought you would be most useful."

Gendry blinked, unable to speak. Cersei threw the remote across the room and it collided with the wall, breaking.

"I want him locked in his room," she snarled at the guards. "There's the off chance that she might go looking for him, and I wanted him watched. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Rothe grunted. Cersei's lips were in the thin line.

"Someone killed Knox," she said in a low voice, her glare sharp and fierce, directed straight at Gendry. "I'm sure once we've combed through all the security footage, we'll find just who it was."

Gendry's heart, for a moment, ceased to beat. It jumped in his chest and then beat so fast, throbbing and pounding in his ears like a great jolt, his veins filling and coursing with blood so fast and thick he could almost taste it in his mouth. It took everything not to spontaneously combust. He swallowed an empty throat.

"Escort him back to his room," Cersei ordered, tapping her fingers against the glass. Rothe nodded, and grabbed Gendry's arm. The one with the broken wrist. Gendry automatically winced, and then cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut. There was no sound.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Cersei asked coldly.

Gendry's mind spun and his mouth was squeezing dry.

"You," he said hoarsely. "Last night... You broke it."

"Did I?" Cersei asked. Gendry didn't dare to move. He prayed. She had been so drunk the night before; he was hoping she didn't remember anything. It wouldn't have been the first time that she had caused him injury. She narrowed her eyes. Then she smiled, laughing. "Dear me. How very careless I am at times."

Gendry didn't say anything, or meet her gaze.

"You may go," she said sharply, and relief like an ocean expanded in his chest in delicious waves.

He turned with Rothe.

"That little girl is going to regret coming back from the grave," Cersei said softly, and Gendry felt cold. Not for Arya... But for Cersei. _She's not a little girl anymore, _he thought, _she's not anything anymore. She doesn't have a soul._

OoooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo oooO

Arya sat in dark, waiting. She counted backwards from twenty in her head, and like clockwork, as though he could hear her when he couldn't, the panel shook, and then gently shifted, Gendry's head appearing over it. His broken wrist was wrapped in gauze, and without thinking, she helped him up to sit with her in the dark rafters of the attic. There was a moment's pause as he had to catch his breath, gasping huge gulps of air like a dying man. She sat back against her heels and watched him.

"Cersei knows I killed Knox," he choked out in a whisper. "She's combing through the video footage from the security cameras, and in less than an hour she'll see... She'll see it was me..."

Arya didn't respond, she just stared at him. His neck was bent, and the lion etched on it was the only clear thing in the dark.

"We need to get you out of here," he rasped. "You need to escape, your sister, Sansa, she's in hiding. I know where-"

"No," Arya said clearly.

"You brother, Jon," Gendry sputtered on, ignoring her. _He knows_, she thought at once. _He knows what I mean to do. _"He's an officer on the police force. It's mostly infected with Lannister pocket-men, but there's a few good cops out there left..."

"I'm not leaving," Arya said in a steely voice. "Not until I do what I came here to do."

"Arya please," he said to her, his voice cracking, "it's suicide."

He looked up at her like it was physically painful, and there were tears in the broken blue eyes. They were waiting to fall, but she would not be moved by them. She would not be moved by the sunken way his eyes looked, or the cracked blood on his split lip. His face was gaunt, with scars and bruises, but that did not stir her humanity either.

"You're one of them now," she said flatly. Gendry took a great, shuttering breath.

"You think I had a choice?" He asked brokenly.

"There's always a choice," she snapped, digging her fingers into her knees until it hurt. Rage was teasing at the edges of her soul.

"What?" He said with a bitter laugh. "You think I should have died along with the rest of them?"

"Yes," she said mercilessly. He flinched.

"I do too," he whispered quietly, and a single tear ran down his cheek. The ghosts that haunted him almost seemed to materialize as shadows on his shoulders, and Arya found herself shivering and pushing herself away. She did not want to pity him. She did not want to feel anything for him.

"We went looking for you."

Arya felt something prick at her skin, but nothing was there and she rubbed her arms, trying to block all of this out and focus... Focus...

"I," Gendry cracked, "I went looking for you. That's when-they… She got us."

Arya looked away from him, turning her back and trying not to think of what she had buried a long time ago. She had thought Gendry died along with the rest of the brotherhood. Before that she thought he'd found another pretty girl to loose himself in. To share her bed and have her children and live in some happy, stupid summer, with every smile forgetting who Arya Stark was. It was twisted that reality felt like a relief.

"What will she do when she finds out it was you?" Arya asked instead, avoiding the hole that was threatening to turn black inside her.

Gendry laughed and shook his head hopelessly.

"What's the point?" He sighed. "I'm already dead anyway."

Unwillingly, Arya's hand detached itself from her body and reached itself out to him. Gendry was looking down, so he didn't see. He didn't see her reach out, her fingers a breath away from his shoulder, and he didn't see it snap back to her side. She would be spared the hurt on his face at least. But she couldn't touch him. Touching him made him all too real.

"I've got to go back down," he said hoarsely. "They check on me every fifteen minutes."

He looked over at her.

"I'm not coming back," Gendry said softly.

Arya nodded.

"Please... Please go."

She didn't say anything, or have any reaction, just stared at him. That was her answer. Gendry sighed. Then he reached out his hand and placed it lightly over hers before she could stop him.

"I never forgot you," he said, not meeting her eyes, and then he pushed himself back down into his room, cradling his broken wrist. The panel slid shut, and she was alone again. Silence rang in the darkness.

He probably thought that was the last time they'd ever see each other. It could be too, she thought. It should be... But as much as she had been determined to ignore the scars on his face, or the bruises, she had seen them. And she knew... She knew he could never be one of them. He was too broken, too beaten. _Already dead._

It should be the last time they saw each other. But she had already made up her mind. And though she liked to pretend it wasn't so, once she had made up her mind, Arya had made it up for good. There were some things that she would never be able to shake off, no matter how hard she tried.

So she sat.

And she waited. Her ear pressed against the wooden panel, finally they came for him.

Angry noises, cursing, she listened, heart beating wildly, as there was the sound of someone being hit, a yell, and then they moved him. She leapt to her feet, and followed the sound of their voices below her, careful to stay on the beams. The panels of wood that ran thick across the drafty attic were soft and creaky. It was likely that if anyone walked on them, they would break. Arya moved quickly, nimbly running along the thin wood, not making a sound, careful to stay right in stride with Gendry and the thugs below her, the muffled sound of their steps sounding through the wood.

There was a pause, and Arya knew why. They were at Cersei's room. The sound of a door banging open, and then Cersei's voice, shrill and enraged. Arya only had a few moments.

Straining her ears, and winding around the beams that outlined Cersei's room, Arya listened for exactly where Cersei's voice was coming from. The sound of her shouting, "There was someone with you! WHO WAS WITH YOU?" And Gendry's muffled replies. Arya pulled out her gun and crouched, her eyes fixed on the spot she needed to land...

"Shoot him!"

Arya jumped, gun in hand, and slammed her feet into the ceiling with as much force as she could muster. The wood shattered in splintered cracks and she broke through, plummeting through and into the room below her, landing hard on the ground.

Cersei screamed.

Arya whipped around and shot the man that was holding Gendry straight through the eye. His body fell with a crash, and the dust hadn't even cleared as Arya spun around and shot Cersei, straight in the side. As Cersei fell, screaming in pain, the man next to her made a jerking move, but Arya was too quick for him, blowing his brains out before he could even get a hold on his gun. She raced forward, grabbed Cersei in a chokehold, whipping her around, and pointed her gun to the screaming woman's head.

"Nobody move!" Arya shouted. "Nobody touch him!"

The thug who had his arm wrapped around Gendry's neck froze. Everyone was still.

"Let him go or I swear to god I'll put a bullet through her skull!" Arya screamed, digging the gun into Cersei's head.

"Do it!" Cersei screeched. "Do what she says you blithering idiots!"

The man released Gendry.

"Drop you weapons!" Arya ordered. They did as they were told. Without her asking, as if reading her mind, Gendry ran and picked them all up. One eye was swollen shut, and his lip was gushing with blood.

"Get on the ground!" Arya roared. "If any of you move, she dies!"

The remaining men scrambled to the ground, shaking.

"Come on," Arya said to Gendry, wrestling Cersei. "Let's go."

He nodded, and then they went out together, Arya pushing Cersei, grabbing her arms and forcing them behind her back as they marched out of the room, Gendry at her back, pointing his gun at the men in the room. Gendry locked the door shut behind them.

Cersei wrenched and roared in pain, swearing, but it was no good. Arya was strong, and Cersei, despite her struggle, was too drunk to be of any real force. As they got to the grand staircase, Gendry fired a few shots in the air. Screams erupted throughout the casino, and Arya pressed the gun to Cersei's head, shouting, "Any sudden moves and she dies!" Mayhem exploded as people, screaming, began to run for cover.

"If anyone tries to shoot us, kill them," Arya said to Gendry as she forced Cersei down the stairs. He nodded his jaw taunt and his gaze steel.

There was a bang, and in a flash, Gendry whipped around and shot the thug on the balcony that had tried to kill Arya. He fell like a doll, and as his body hit the ground, spraying blood, the screams were louder and renewed. The panic was a perfect cover, and Arya, following Gendry, almost melted with the crowd as they raced towards the back door.

Gendry threw it open, fired a few shots, and then nodded for the all clear. He waited for Arya and Cersei to pass him, holding his gun at the crowd, just in case anyone tried to harm Arya while she couldn't look. Then he slammed the door and barred it shut.

Arya threw Cersei from her and pulled out her gun.

"You stupid little bitch!" Cersei screamed. "Look at what you've done!"

"Anguy!" Gendry shouted. "Anguy!"

Arya kicked Cersei in her bullet wound and the older woman fell to the ground, wrenching in pain, blood coating her hands. Arya cocked her gun, and pointed it directly at Cersei's skull. The time had come. This was the final moment.

"Do it!" Cersei spat. "Kill me."

Arya felt her hand begin to shake. She saw Ned's face, the look there before he died, the pain. The pain was so tremendous it almost left her breathless.

"You can't," Cersei laughed, coughing up blood. "You're weak. Weak just like your father."

Arya felt her entire body contort with rage, shaking so violently she might explode, every joint rigid. Her finger was on the trigger... Her finger was on the trigger but why wasn't Cersei dead yet?

"Do it!" Cersei screamed. "Do it!"

But just as Arya was about to pull the trigger, there was the sound of a roaring engine, and the alleyway was flooded with light.

**Sorry it took so long to update, and double sorry for the cliff hanger! If it makes you feel any better, the next chapter's a big hefty one. Music that inspired this chapter was: we must be killers/who are you really by mikky ekko and bones by mr ms. Only two more chapters left…. We're reaching the home stretch!**


	23. Breaking Falls

**I know this took forever and I'm not going to waste your time with excuses as to why. Here's the new chapter. One more to go.**

Gendry blinked like an owl, stumbling backwards at the roaring sound, momentarily blinded. But then, through the shining headlights, he could make out the outline of a motorcycle. A motorcycle with a bull's head. And he knew exactly what was going to happen, and what was in store for them.

Arya whipped around and pointed her gun, ready to shoot.

"Put that away, girl," a familiar voice growled. "You might hurt yourself."

Arya's mouth dropped in shock.

"Come on you sorry sons of whores!" Yoren roared, any question about his identity wiped away with that familiar phrase. "We've got company."

So they did. Shouts were coming from the front of the casino, and Gendry knew the police had arrived. They were all in Cersei's pocket, and everyone was terrified of her dying. Cersei was only the second most feared person in Westeros. Tywin Lannister came first. Company wouldn't begin to describe what they were in for.

"Get on!" Yoren shouted.

Arya hesitated, her eyes flicking to a screaming Cersei who was still writhing on the ground.

"HEY!"

"_GET ON!"_ Yoren bellowed, and Gendry didn't need to be told twice. The cops were racing at them full speed, and he bolted to the bike, broken wrist and all, and threw himself on.

"We aren't finished yet!" Arya roared at Cersei, and then she took off after them as Yoren spun the bike around and zoomed down the alley.

"I want them dead!" Cersei was screaming behind them. "I WANT THEM DEAD!"

"Get on!" Gendry shouted at Arya as she ran behind them, the alley too small for her to run alongside.

"I can't!" She shouted back. "There's no room!"

There was a bang, and then something whizzed by Gendry's ear. They were shooting at them.

Arya's eyes were wide with fear for the first time.

They broke from the alley and into the street. Yoren revved the motorcycle and they jumped forward, swelling in speed until Arya couldn't keep up with them, and as Gendry watched, the police were closing in behind her...

"TURN AROUND!" He screamed at Yoren. "Turn fucking around!"

A policeman was about to shoot-

Out of nowhere there was a roar of an engine, and then the muffled sound of a gunshot and the policeman fell backwards, blood spurting from his chest and a black motorcycle shot out from the alley across the way, skirted around and grabbed Arya's arm. As quick as a shot she jumped on the back of the bike and they sped towards Gendry and Yoren. Under the biker's helmet, Gendry saw a tuft of red hair.

"About bloody time!" He shouted at Anguy.

"Sorry!" The hit man yelled as they came in alongside the bull motorcycle. "I didn't know we were having a party!"

"Is that Anguy?" Arya sputtered in disbelief, her arm around his neck as she reloaded her gun.

"How's milady doing?" Anguy shouted back at her. Arya glared burning hell at Gendry and said nothing. Yoren and Anguy both laughed.

There was the sound of a police car, and Gendry whipped around to see that they were being pursued.

"Yoren," he called, "we've got company."

"Of course we've got company," Yoren snapped. "It's not a bloody car chase without cars."

"Hang tight," Anguy told Arya. "It's going to be bumpy."

Arya snorted.

"You hang tight," she snapped.

They banked a hard left, running a red light. Cars screamed around them as they jerked and jolted, weaving frantically to avoid collision. Horns blared and wheels screeched, but they barely managed to evade the cops who swerved around the mess Yoren and Anguy had created, still in hot pursuit. Arya cocked her gun and threw a look over her shoulder, tense and waiting as they sped through thicker and thicker traffic, racing.

Yoren jerked the gear shift back and they leapt forward, pushing hard in speed, but it wasn't fast enough. The cops were closing in fast, and Gendry saw one of them roll down a window... There was a gun...

Arya was quicker. With one single jerk she had focused, aimed and shot the cop straight in the hand. He fell back inside the car with screaming curses. She didn't stop there. With precise machinery, she started laying bullets into the windshield of the nearest cop car. It went swerving, hit the side of the road and then spun out of control, slamming around into one of the other cars that were pursuing them.

"Tunnel!" Yoren shouted, and they dipped down towards darkness.

Three cop cars were still in hot pursuit.

Gendry was beginning to get worried. There was a small amount of cars, and that meant that there was back up coming. Most likely at the end of the tunnel. What would happen if they were met with a barricade? Arya was still firing away, but even she didn't have enough ammunition to hold them off forever. He hoped Yoren and Anguy had a pretty damn good plan because at the moment, things were looking pretty slim.

The tunnel curved, and Gendry gripped Yoren's jacket. He had been right. At the entrance of the tunnel cop cars were screeching to a halt.

"You know what to do!" Yoren shouted at Anguy and he nodded.

They tensed, and then sped towards the barricade. Arya successfully shot holes in the tires of two of the cars pursuing them. She grinned at Gendry, then spotted the barricade and went sheet white. _This could be it, _Gendry thought, gritting his teeth. _This could be fucking it._

They were racing towards the barricade and not stopping. They were going to CRASH-

Gendry was nearly thrown off the bike as Yoren, at the very last second, made a sharp turn to the right, such a sharp turn that they almost slid flat, and zoomed down the small pedestrian walkway. Gendry's elbows scraped as they shot through the cramped tunnel and then bounced down a set of stairs, nearly toppling over again, and then leapt over to a narrow side walk. Anguy and Arya followed them as Yoren whizzed and wound down the side walk, then took a sharp left down another flight of stairs before cutting to another walkway that sloped downwards towards the docks where the ferries were. Not so far away, Gendry could see a boat pulling in... They looked like they were preparing for people to board, but there was no one there...

Yoren revved the engine again and they jolted forward, racing down towards the little boat that Gendry thought must be meant for them. He had always known they'd prepared for this, just in case it ever were to occur... The idea of Arya coming back had always been a stupid fantasy... He just never knew how much everyone else had prepared, and how little he knew about it. _Yeah but I was the guy on the inside, _he reminded himself. _The less I knew, the better. _

The fact that Yoren and Anguy had been there was no accident. As sure as word of Arya's return had gotten to Cersei, it must have gotten to the Starks as well. Jon was on the police force after all. under a false name of course. The last good cop left, some joked. And Littlefinger... Well he always knew everything. He probably knew Arya was in Westeros before she did. Gendry had never met him, he had never met Jon or Sansa either (it was too dangerous), but from what Anguy said, no one liked him. Or trusted him.

Like shadows they swept down to the docks in the darkness, and then rode straight towards the boat, the bridge down, men waiting for them, silent and unmoving. They rode right onto the boat, bouncing over the bridge, and then came to a screeching halt. Gendry barely had time to leap off the bike before it was crashing to the ground with the loss of Yoren.

"Hey!" Gendry yelled. "Do you know how much time and effort went into that bike-"

"Shut up!" Yoren whispered, slamming his hand into Gendry's face. "Shut your goddamn mouth and get inside! Or do you want to signal every cop in town exactly where we are?"

Gendry knew he looked sheepish. Yoren rolled his eyes, grabbed Gendry by the arm and marched him inside and down the steps into the seating area of the ferry. Arya and Anguy hurried after them and there was a growling and belching sound as the engine started and the ferry began to move, pulling away from the docks and going god-knows-where. Gendry's mind was exploding with questions, but he knew he couldn't voice them. Not yet.

The boat was virtually empty. There were rows and rows of seats, but no people to fill them. All except one. A beautiful woman with long brown hair. She stood when they came in, and Yoren paused. She looked oddly familiar... But she wasn't looking at Gendry, or Yoren. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and she was looking right at Arya.

"Sansa?" Arya asked in bewilderment.

The woman didn't answer, but she ran to them and threw her arms around Arya, bursting into tears. Arya went stiff, and her arms jerked, as if she wanted to wrap them around her sister, but there was some sort of opposing force that would not let her. For a split second, an overwhelming vulnerability was everywhere around Arya, but then it disappeared and she was all coldness. Sansa, as if burned by frost, retracted her hold.

"Arya."

A man stepped forward, not someone Gendry knew. He had dark hair and looked a good deal like Arya. He must have been her half brother, Jon. And as he came towards her, arms outstretched, Gendry knew he was. But... Unlike Sansa he was not so easily swayed by his emotions to realize that this was not the sister he had last seen four years ago. So he stopped, arms sweeping closed, and clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder. Even that was almost too much for Arya. Gendry could see her struggle not to pull away.

Though Jon did not cry, or hug her, there was no mistaking the deep regret and hurt that shined glossy in his Northern eyes.

"It's been a long time," Jon said softly.

Arya looked at him with round eyes but she didn't say anything. There was almost something... She almost seemed like a caged animal. Wild, reckless and unable to connect. Frightened. He had never seen her so frightened. Frightened of her own family. Three years ago, she would have run into their arms. She would have cried and wept with happiness and joy. Now she was totally and utterly destroyed.

"Yoren told me about you."

It took Gendry a few moments to realize that Sansa was talking to him. He was too dazed and exhausted to pick up on things quickly. His skin was jittery, his blood quivering. Every nerve on edge.

"You looked after Arya after our father died. You protected her."

Gendry wanted to cry, or laugh hysterically, he didn't know which. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Arya. He didn't want to see what was on her face. Hot shame raced throughout his entire body.

It was Arya who broke the awkward tension.

"Where are we going?" She asked curtly. No hint of emotion in her voice. Guarded and cold.

"To Dragonstone."

Gendry and Arya both jumped. Neither of them had seen Stannis Baratheon come in. He stood there, a severe, commanding presence. Where Gendry's father had once been jovial (or so he had been told), Stannis had no mirth behind his hard steely eyes. He looked straight through Gendry, right to Arya. _Does he even see me? _Gendry wondered. Did he know that Gendry was his nephew? If he did, he did not show it.

"Stannis Baratheon?" Arya seemed surprised, the first real emotion she had shown since stepping on that ferry.

"Don't worry, he's not staying long," a sneering voice came from within the shadows. A man Gendry did not know slinked forward like a snake. He sported a small goatee and an offsetting, unsettling manner that sent Gendry's skin crawling.

Rage, blind, hot rage coiled into Arya's eyes.

"_You_," she snarled, her breath coming out in hot spurts.

"Now calm yourself, Arya," the man said oily. "I mean you no harm."

Gendry, as an automatic reflex, moved in front of her, arms stretched out vaguely as if to protect her. The man chuckled rudely.

"So gallant," he said. "I didn't know you had a knight in shining armor. But then again, Baratheons always did have a slobbering thing for Starks."

Before Gendry could even think, Arya had her gun out, and was pointing it straight at the man's head. Sansa screamed.

"Arya!" She cried. "Stop it!"

"I want him off this boat," Arya snarled, her voice a deadly tremor. "I want him off this boat _now_."

"That's a bit unfortunate," the man sighed, "seeing as this boat is mine."

"Arya, Littlefinger's been helping us-"

"Like hell he's been helping us," Arya snapped, pushing Gendry away from her so she could have a clear shot at the bearded man.

"Arya, he saved me. He saved me from the Lannisters-"

"You sick pervert," Arya growled in a low voice, her gun trained straight between Littlefinger's eyes. "Saved her did you? Just like you saved my father."

"What happened to Ned Stark was unfortunate-"

"Don't you _dare_ say his name!" Arya screamed. "Say it again and I will pull this trigger!"

"Arya..." Jon looked horrified. Winded. Utterly lost.

"Oh I doubt that very much," Littlefinger said drily. "Seeing as you had the chance to shoot Cersei Lannister only a few minutes ago, and didn't take it, forgive me if I don't see that threat as... Well, threatening."

Arya shook from head to toe with rage, but most of all, shame and disappointment flowered in her eyes in the form of empty, angry tears. It was all Gendry could do to save her. He came forward and forced the gun from her hands, but she barely gave it up without a fight.

"I want him out," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I want him out of my sight."

"More than happy to oblige," Yoren said gruffly, and he went forward and grabbed Littlefinger by the arm.

"Steady man," Littlefinger snarled, trying to throw him off. "Let me remind you that this is my boat."

"And these are my men," Stannis said coming forward. "Now get out."

Defeated, Littlefinger let Yoren force him out of the room, but he didn't look too happy. He seemed a dangerous ally, and it was clear that no one wanted him there. Arya was the only one to voice her feelings.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Stark," Stannis Baratheon said formally. Arya nodded jerkily, still visibly shaken. "I trust you are all right?"

"Yes fine," Arya said, gathering herself. "So you're on our side now?"

"I was always on your side," Stannis said coldly.

"Then where were you when my father died?" Arya demanded angrily. "Where were you when Tywin Lannister kidnapped me, and Cersei held Sansa captive?"

"Same as you," Stannis said, not daunted in the least. "I was fighting a war."

Something flashed across Arya's face. _Not good enough_, Gendry thought. _Not good enough._

"Stannis has agreed to help us," Sansa cut in shakily. "If we work together, we can easily take down Cersei. Once the Red Keep falls, we'll be free to go home."

"And I suppose the Red Keep will go to you then? When we're finished with Cersei?" Arya leered cooly. Stannis didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Unless you would prefer to have it?" He asked. Arya was caught there, so she merely scowled. It was so endearingly like the old Arya that it sent a jabbing pain through Gendry's chest.

"We can go home Arya," Sansa said tentatively. Arya seemed to hear her, but from someplace far away. Revenge was too hot in her blood to hear of any salvation.

"How long will we be in Dragonstone?" Arya demanded.

"Not long," Stannis replied. "The longer we stay, the more of a disadvantage we're at. The sooner we act, the better."

Arya seemed to like that.

"Captain says we'll arrive in fifteen minutes," Yoren informed them, coming back into the room. Stannis nodded stoically and Sansa gave a sigh of relief. She looked quite pale and shaken. Jon did as well.

"You may tell Davos that I am grateful for his services," Stannis said. "And that we will be returning to Kings Landing tomorrow evening."

Yoren looked displeased at being the messenger boy but did as he was told. Gendry could only blink in surprise. Stannis wasn't kidding when he said they would return to King's Landing as soon as possible. Would a day really be enough time for them to all rally together? He looked out of the windows at the pale, bleak lightening sky. Morning was on it's way, but it never felt so much like night.

"So what's the plan?" Arya wanted to know.

Stannis, Jon and Sansa shifted uncomfortably.

"This is not the place to discuss such matters of an extremely confidential nature," Stannis said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "We'll talk when we get to Dragonstone."

"What's Dragonstone?"

Gendry thought he hadn't even spoken at all, his voice was so hoarse from shock and lack of use, but everyone jumped at his words. As if seeing him for the first time, Stannis turned and faced him. His gaze was so icy, so cold, that Gendry shivered, feeling as though he had done something wrong when he clearly hadn't.

"Dragonstone is my home," Stannis answered. "It is located on an island which very few people know about. We will not be bothered there."

There was a swelling silence in the ferry, one Gendry knew he had caused. His face heated up with a blush and for the first time in his life he felt incredibly small. _He does know who I am,_ he thought, not daring to look at his uncle. _He just doesn't care. _There was a throbbing pain in his chest and broken wrist, and he wished to be anywhere but on that boat.

"Time to go," Yoren said, saving Gendry like an angel. An ugly angel, that was. With a huge sigh of relief, Gendry quickly followed him up the stairs and to the deck of the boat.

Dragonstone loomed up in front of them like a great shadow. It was the stuff of spy books, Gendry thought. Shows he used to watch as a kid. A great, big hulk of a black mansion on a rock surrounded by cliffs, hidden away. And though it was a safe place, it didn't look it. It looked like the last place to go if you were in a tight spot.

The boat puttered to a stop just next to a dock where a woman stood with strange red hair, holding a lantern and a flash light. She tied the boat to the dock without a sound and waited as Yoren and a man Gendry didn't know rolled out the walkway. Arya was the first off the ferry, and Gendry followed suit. Littlefinger was nowhere to be seen.

They followed the strange woman up a set of very rigorous stairs and then through a door. Dragonstone might have seemed creepy from the outside, but it was also spooky on the inside as well. There were lots of red and black, deep dark wood and walls painted the color of pomegranates, with flickering candles to guide their way.

"Does this place get electricity?" Arya asked, and Gendry tried not to laugh.

"We don't like to use light at night," the woman said in an accent Gendry couldn't place. "Otherwise it makes it easy for people to see where we are."

They sure were overly cautious too. Thick, heavy drapes covered huge windows. This place could have been a beautiful gateway, with the water and the cliffs, but it felt more like a medieval prison. Gendry wondered what it was like during the day time. Maybe it was nicer then. He wouldn't be staying long enough to know. He doubted, as they were such high profile, wanted people, that Stannis would let him open all the curtains to see if that would brighten up the room.

She led them up a huge set of stairs to a narrow hallway. Their rooms, she told them. Everyone had their own. Sansa, Jon and Arya all got first pick, then came Yoren. Lastly, Gendry got the small room down the hall and up another thin flight of stairs. It had a door leading out to a tiny stone patio, but that was about it. It was small, damp dark and cramped. He didn't say anything.

The red haired woman watched him with strange eyes as he went inside. He thought she might be waiting for him to say something, but when he opened his mouth, she closed the door and left.

He was completely alone. Stannis had wanted them to rest, but Gendry couldn't sleep. He was too wired, to hyped up. His eyes were red and dry and itchy, aching for a few hours closed, but he couldn't. He tried to make a sling for his wrist, but that hurt so goddamn much he nearly passed out. There was a small little fireplace in the corner of his room, so he lit it and watched the flames for a while. The heat was little comfort to his numb body.

There was a sound outside his door, the one that lead to the patio, and Gendry leaped up, ready to defend himself, but finding nothing with which to grab a hold of. He was utterly powerless.

"Open up!" A voice hissed outside. "It's me."

Only Arya, Gendry thought, but his heart still hammered hard in his chest. He could scarcely breathe as he fumbled with the door and let her in. Suddenly the room was all warmth, no chill as she stood there, hugging her arms around herself and then letting them go. He closed the door. They stood several feet apart. She made no move to change it.

"I couldn't sleep," she finally said.

"Me neither," Gendry's voice was croaking. She looked different in the soft light. Less severe. Less broken. More human.

"What's that on your wrist?" She asked, frowning.

"Oh," Gendry said stupidly. "I found a bit of a handkerchief in my bedside drawer, I thought it might help to bind it..."

"Let me," Arya demanded. "I know about these things."

_She should know_, he thought to himself, _she broke it_. But he let her sit him down on the bed without a sound and watched her quietly as she went to work. He tried not to wince... It was useless. His wrist was broken. Pain was inevitable.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help looking at her, _really_ looking at her. The light was thin, and it seemed to dull out everything that he wanted to hide in her. She was just Arya now, the Arya he had known so long ago. Not a day had passed between them. She was older, yes, but she was still... Well her. Reality was easy to evade in the early morning.

"What," she said sharply, and he blinked.

"Nothing," Gendry sputtered quickly. "It's just... It's just I thought I would never see you again."

Unexpected pain, internal pain, ripped through his skin. Suddenly, he thought of Edric and Beric and Tom and Lem and all the others that had died. For years he had been able to bury the pain with the thirst for and bitter promise of revenge, but now that Arya was here, sitting in front of him, it was all so real. They had been her friends too. Now that she was here, he felt as though he could grieve.

There were tears in his eyes, he knew, and it was great strength to let them fall, and to let himself feel. He looked at their hands, blurring from the salty water in his eyes, and then suddenly he wasn't looking at them anymore. He wasn't looking at anything.

Arya was kissing him, suddenly and desperately. He could not think of why, but he could not think at all. The physical feel of her was so overwhelming he suddenly felt suffocated and starved at the same time. Everything went numb and he could only respond, and grab her and cling to her and never let her go. Because once she touched him, he lost everything. He lost everything real in his head, and there was only her skin and her mouth and her hair. All he wanted was her in that moment.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so lost he would be wise and stop her. He wouldn't let her pull him down on the bed like a drowning anchor and hold him there, making love to him until neither of them could breathe and then doing it again and again to stop the silence that would fall between. Maybe if he had thought for a moment he would have realized that she was afraid. She was afraid of what the silence between them held.

OooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo

B_ang! Bang! Bang!_

For a wild second Arya awoke alarmed, drenched in sweat and horrified that it was somehow all happening all over again. All of it, Everyone. They were dead! They'd been shot!

But of course, when she came to her full senses, she knew at once that it was not gunfire, but a dream, and rippling thunder across the sea. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all. It had been a long time since Arya had slept so soundly and her mind was fogged and confused.

The room she was in... It wasn't right. Her glazed-over eyes quickly scanned the dresser, the pale walls and the thick black curtains that hung over what looked like a door to the outside. There was clothing piled on the floor and spilling off the bed. Her first thought was that this was a bleak sort of place. For a moment she lay there with the sound of rain tapping in softly. The light shown in from a window over her head.

It was then that Arya realized Gendry was next to her.

Her heart sank faster than it ever had before as it all suddenly became clear. It was as if she had still been asleep and now she was suddenly jolted awake. All numbness returned, and as Gendry sighed in his sleep and rolled across the bed away from her, the loss of him made reality come crashing in like ice.

_Oh my god, what have I done?_

Arya lay back against the pillows, her head throbbing wildly and tears threatening to squeeze from her eyes. How could she have let this happen? She had known, of course she had known, his longing for them to be together. How could she not have? She had seen his face the second he saw her again. Arya could see it now, as he slept soundly, cradling his wrist, his face smooth and undisturbed.

And now she would break his heart again.

Arya felt suddenly ill, as though she would be sick upon the floor, but she did not. She closed her eyes for a moment, sinking.

She had to leave. It seemed that this was such a cowardly act, but that did not flit through Arya's hurried mind as she swept up her clothes. Her pants were yanked up each leg. Her t-shirt wrestled on. But it wasn't fast enough.

"What are you doing?"

Gendry had awoken, realization dawning on his face.

"Gendry," she looked up, her lip trembling for a split second, and then it stilled itself into icy cold indifference. "Gendry, I'm so sorry."

"You're leaving?" His voice was in the state of a strangled question, but his eyes were not. Arya bent her head, and then lifted it, meeting his gaze. She felt emotion sapping at every crack in her body, but everything, every instinct, told her to ignore it. She could not afford to feel, not when it had destroyed everything she had.

"I can't... I'm sorry," Arya said hastily as she fled, brushing past him. He didn't move, too astounded to stop her. She walked swiftly, buttoning up her coat as she went. Arya's hand found the door and she violently pushed it open. A rush of cool air followed. The rain was falling hard and it gusted at her, cold and biting.

"Arya. ARYA!" She heard Gendry roar, and then he thundered after her. She kept walking. She couldn't think of what else to do.

"Why are you doing this?" he grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. Through the rain Arya could see the anguish on his face. His fingers shook as he tried to tie his robe closed with one good hand.

"You can't just leave like that," he said, looking scared. "Come back inside."

"I can't... We can't," Arya tried to explain through a spurting mouth. "Cersei..."

"Cersei!" He snapped angrily. "It is always Cersei!"

"She murdered my family!" Arya shouted back. "It isn't right, you and me! Not right now! I can't handle an affair-"

"An affair," Gendry scoffed, horrible rage trembling on his lips. "AN AFFAIR? Is that all this is to you? Some sort of cheap lovers' rendezvous?"

"That's not fair!" Arya cried. "That's not what I meant!"

"Not fair? I'm not being fair?" Gendry roared in indignation. "HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST I'M THE ONE THAT'S NOT BEING FAIR? I have helped you, I have stopped my work, my life, and everything else to aid you! You! WHO LEFT _ME_!"

"I am sorry I left but I was a child Gendry! My father was murdered! My mother, my brother...What was I supposed to have done?" She could feel her hands shaking and she could not stop them. She ripped tears away from her eyes with her sleeve.

"Don't you DARE try to make me the monster here!" Gendry shouted. "You spat in my face after I'd given you my whole heart and you dare to accuse me?"

"Three years have passed between this time and that! Things have changed!" Arya shouted back.

"You haven't!" He accused. "You're still running away, without a care in the world for what pain it's causing!"

"Running away is stopping the pain!" Arya cried. "Gendry, I have lost everything! I've got nothing left!"

"You have me," Gendry said feebly.

"It's not enough!" Arya said. "We're all so broken, Jon, Sansa, you, me. We aren't a family anymore, we aren't anything anymore, and she did this! She ruined everything I ever loved!"

"And what about me then? What about how I feel?" Gendry demanded. "I'm not enough?

"You are an adult Gendry," Arya said sharply, collecting herself, "and you're acting like a child. What of the past? What I did happened three years ago, why should it matter now?"

"It does matter now!" Gendry shouted, looking suddenly as though his every nerve was on fire. Wild outrage scorched in his eyes.

"Why?" Arya yelled back. "Tell me! Tell me why we keep going back again and again and again to the same thing? WHY?"

"BECAUSE I'M STILL IN FUCKING LOVE WITH YOU!" Gendry shouted so madly Arya took several steps backwards.

"I'm still in love with you."

The impact of his words nearly caused her to fall backwards, her hands clutching for something, anything to hold onto. After regaining her footing Arya stood there, staring at him, water sliding down her face, her breath coming out in rapid spurts, mind racing. Arya gave a shuttering breath, and she found that her eyes were pricking from something that had nothing to do with the rain.

"Gendry- Gendry, I'm so sorry."

He gave a dark laugh, shaking his head as though he didn't quite believe it.

"I-I can't. You know I can't. Cersei-"

He looked up, the fury in his gaze sucking the words from her mouth. Arya found her tongue folding back against itself as her lip trembled. She could not move. She could not speak.

"Go on then," he said darkly. "Run."

"Gendry it's not the same, you know it's not the same," Arya said, reaching out, stumbling forward.

He pulled back, as though disgusted.

"Then why does it hurt as much?" He asked, his question raw and his eyes black. Arya could not answer him.

"You know what?" He said with a bitter laugh. "I take it back. I take it all back. I don't love you, I _hate_ you. I hate you with every single bit of my soul. And once this is over, I never want to see you again."

Arya gasped. He was no longer laughing.

And this time, it was Gendry that turned away. He did not want to be in her presence any longer. With a fierce finality, he turned coldly and began to walk back towards the house as though Arya was nothing. As though they had never had such an intense exchange. And in that moment, Arya never loathed herself more.

"Gendry!"

Arya could not control herself. She knew, some part of her knew, that this is what she had wanted. Wasn't it true? Hadn't Arya said that they couldn't go on? Had she not stood there, in all her vindictive glory, and told him they were to part? And yet... This could not be what Arya wanted. Not at all.

Because hadn't she been the one who pulled him towards her the night before? Wasn't she the one that had crashed her hungry lips against his? Pulled him down with her into a sinking body that was drowning? She was so selfish. Arya thought she knew all about the evil of human nature. She thought she had understood it when she saw blood and gore splattered across so many surfaces, but she knew now that there was a deeper hurt than the act of violence. One that Arya had grown accustomed to performing. Perhaps she had deserved all the heartache she had been dealt.

Rain curled into her hair and slid down her cheeks. The wretched green monster within her head sneered that she deserved this, and she did. Arya had asked to be alone, she had had several opportunities where she could be in the warmth of the people that cared for her and she had pushed it away. For what? The numbness of solitude?

No it was fear. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._

And it was all she could do to not fall apart at the melting of her icy heart.

"We'll take the Red Keep from the alleys," Stannis said as they all sat around his dining room table, "while my men storm through the main entrance. Night is our friend. The more people there, the more hostages, and then they'll have to surrender. Too many people of importance are there for Tywin to shut us down. Once we have a panic, we have them."

"Good thing Arya's here," Yoren said with a bark of laughter. "She's good at causing a panic."

Arya could only half-smile dully. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the seat of her chair. She was so close. She was so close to tasting their blood in her mouth, to tasting revenge... Her bones were rigid, and she reached for Needle, imagining the blade cutting into Cersei's throat... Then Tywin's...

They boarded the ferry as the sun burned low. The rain had stopped, and now there was just an eerie silence that had settled over everything. The ride to King's Landing was quiet and tense. Gendry sat outside, not looking at her or acknowledging her, and Arya wasn't sure she wanted to speak to him either. Their lives together were over now. They had nothing left to say to each other, and she was tired of messy ends.

When they docked in King's Landing, Jon took off in the squad car, and Sansa, Arya, Gendry, Stannis and Yoren boarded an innocent looking ice cream van. The rest of Stannis's men dispersed into cars, and as Yoren revved the van into action, Stannis opened one of many boxes, and started handing them weapons, namely very big guns. Gendry took them, but Sansa wouldn't. She had a small handgun, but she looked very pale and nervous. Arya wondered if she had ever hurt anyone in her life, but she had insisted on coming.

As they pulled to a stop, Arya felt a hum of adrenaline shoot through her. Every muscle was ready and waiting. Blood coursed through her mouth and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Everything was coming together. Everything was about to end.

They got out of the van as quietly as possible. Arya led the way down the alley. It was dusk out. Everything was swelling. It was like being underwater. It was so calm... So serene...

She knew it was a trap before she even rounded the corner, but it was a second too late. Everything was still, and then it was exploding. They had known they would be coming. They were ready.

Gunfire exploded across the street, and Arya would have been blown to bits if it weren't for Gendry, who grabbed the back of her jacket and yanked her back behind the corner. She did not spare him thanks. Instead, she loaded her gun, whipped around the corner and fired, killing the first line of men with one swift sweep of her gun.

She whipped back around before they could fire at her, and she saw Stannis pull the trigger out of a smoke grenade, and then he threw it around the corner. It exploded, and then, without a second's hesitation, they all charged into the mayhem, weapons ready and shooting at anyone and anything.

The smoke was thick, and Arya used it to her advantage. Like a shadow she dashed around, shouldered her bigger weapon in favor of her handgun, making clean kill shots of the Lannister men that were getting to their feet, coughing and sputtering from the smoke. She shot a man through the head-

"Arya look out!"

She dodged a bullet just in time and spun back around to see Gendry looking relieved, his body sighing...

There was a beat, and then suddenly, it was as if everything stopped. Time began to ooze. Arya turned, as if in slow motion, though in reality she was spinning, screaming. No sound came out. Only silence and the beating of her heart.

It was as if she never even heard the shot.

There might not have been a shot at all. Gendry's face was perfectly normal. He was looking straight into her eyes... Everything was fine...

But then something changed in his expression. There was a jerk, a confusion, a flash of pain and horror, and then he was falling... Falling... Falling...

There was so much blood.

_Gendry._

"NOOOO!" She screamed. "NOOO!"

She was running at him, screaming for him, panic tearing wildly at her heart, tears exploding from her eyes as she gave ragged, terrified gasps of breath, every intake as sharp as knives. Every step towards him seemed to be backwards.

"GENDRY!"

His hands were clamped to his stomach, blood leaking through them in droves, sticking to his shirt as he gasped for breath, his face screwed up in shocked pain as he made choking noises, shaking. He coughed and there was blood there too.

Arya nearly crashed into him. She grabbed at him desperately, as if shaking him would make things better. She always shook him when he was being stupid, and it usually stopped. Why wasn't it working? Her mind was so scattered and nothing was making sense aside from the fact that there was blood, blood _everywhere._

"It's going to be all right," she heard herself say in her mechanical voice, so cold, so unfeeling. "Just don't panic."

"Arya..." He rasped.

"Don't talk," she snapped. "I'll call an ambulance. Now apply pressure-"

"Stop," he whispered.

"Lay back-"

"Stop."

She looked over at him, and suddenly there was a coldness, a different coldness than the one she had felt before. Before it was a coping device. A coldness in order to save him, but... This was the deadest of cold because she knew, in that instant, that it was over. He knew it too, because his fingers closed over hers.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head furiously at him, her stupid bull boy. He only shook his head at her, his lips growing wet with blood... "No! No, NO, _NO_!"

She was screaming now, she knew. Screaming against the reality that was crashing in around her. But she just couldn't... Not him... Not Gendry. She couldn't lose him. Not him. _Please not him._

"Gendry!" she cried, tears running down her face and clogging at her throat. "Someone help him! Do something! Call a fucking ambulance! No... _No_..."

She cradled his body, rocking back and forth and sobbing. Gendry began to make gasping noises, and she felt him reach a trembling hand to her face.

"I've... I..." he was trying to say something, but she couldn't let him.

"Don't. Don't talk. Don't do anything," she said curtly, shaking her head. "Save your strength. You're going to be fine."

Gendry shook his head.

"No, I won't be..." He said, his hand trembling against her face.

"Yes, you are! You _have_ to be! You can't... I won't let you... You can't die!" Arya cried at him angrily, rocking back and forth. "You stupid bull boy, you-You CAN'T!"

Gendry's eyes began to flutter close and gently, ever so gently, she felt his thumb move against her face and wipe a tear away. Arya looked into his fading eyes, and felt her breath catch in her throat, sticking.

"I love you," he sighed softly, "but you already know that."

His eyes slid closed and he fell into unconsciousness. Unmoving.

"No..."

"The ambulance is coming, Arya!" Sansa was there, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because his eyes weren't open. They were supposed to be open.

"No..."

"Oh, Arya," Sansa's voice caught in her throat, and Arya shook her away. She didn't want Sansa to cry for her. She didn't want...

"Gendry!" She shouted at him cradling him to her. "Gendry! Answer me! Answer me you stupid... GENDRY!"

"Arya..."

"He can't die!" Arya sobbed. "This can't happen! Gendry!"

She shook him wildly, but then Sansa was pulling her off him, and she was fighting and screaming, but there were other people there too. They were just blurs though, blurs against the tears that were pouring out of her eyes as the sounds of the ambulance drew nearer and nearer, and then it was there, and there were people... People everywhere...

Stannis and his men had disappeared long ago and it was only Sansa. Sansa holding her as she cried numbly. Sansa who lead her into the ambulance with Gendry, and then who shut the door, her lips moving with words of instruction and comfort, but there were none. As the door slammed shut, Arya felt as though it was shutting out everything. Sound, reason, feeling... Life. She sat, utterly still, barely able to breathe, staring at him.

It seemed like it took whole years to get to the hospital, and when they did, Arya felt choked. She practically ripped herself from the ambulance, staggering and gasping for breath, her head swimming, her eyes clogged. Everything was spinning and her heart was beating too fast and...

They wheeled him inside and she found herself racing after them, a certain insanity taking over as she stumbled behind the team of medics, all saying things that didn't make sense. Then they were pushing past swinging doors, and she was reaching for his hand...

"Sorry miss," the man in the white coat said, "you can't go into the operating room."

"No!" Arya said, struggling as Gendry was wheeled farther and farther away. "No, please! Please just let me-"

"Miss," the man said, pushing against her, "calm down! Visitors aren't allowed-"

"I'm not a visiter! Y-You don't understand!" She sobbed. "I have to... I have to tell him... He-He doesn't know!"

"You'll tell him after-"

"HE'S GOING TO DIE!" She screamed. "I CAN'T TELL HIM AFTER BECAUSE IT'LL BE TOO LATE AND HE WON'T KNOW!"

"I'm going to call security," the man warned.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LISTEN?" Arya shrieked at him, shaking him. "DO SOMETHING ONCE IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE AND JUST LISTIN TO ME! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"ARYA!"

Sansa rushed up and tried to pull Arya away, but she struggled violently.

"Do you know her?"

"Yes," Sansa said, grabbing Arya's arms and pinning them down as she sobbed. "She's my sister."

"If you don't get her to calm down, she'll have to be removed from the premises," the man in the lab coat said firmly.

"You'll do no such thing."

Jon was there. Jon was finally there, grabbing a hold of her alongside Sansa, his grip strong, like an anchor.

"I'm a police officer," he said forcefully. "And if you so much as lay a finger on her-"

"It's all right, Jon," Sansa was saying, but Arya could barely listen to them. She was twisting Jon's shirt and twisting it...

"Please!" Arya shouted, her hair falling in her face and sticking to the wet tear tracks. "PLEASE!"

"Arya, I'm sorry," Sansa said soothingly. "We have to go now. They'll let you see him soon."

"No!" Arya cried, pushing against her. "They won't! It'll be too late! Please just let me... Please..."

But Sansa's arms were surprisingly strong, and, coupled with Jon's gentle hands on her shoulders, Arya felt herself being drawn away from the doors, watching them slide away from her like glass, and she thought to herself numbly that this was like running in a dream and not really going anywhere. So this must have been a dream. It must have been...

She found herself sitting in a chair, and then on the floor, her hands coated with blood and cracked and numb, clasped together as her arms hung around her knees. Her eyes were fuzzy and blank, and everything sounded like she was underwater. Far away and distant Sansa came to kneel next to her and washed her hands with a sterile wipe and said things, and Jon sat next to her, rubbing life into her dead limbs, but Arya was despondent. She just couldn't seem to think or feel anything but pain, as though the bullet had gone through her. She wished the bullet had gone through her.

Hours passed, and Sansa left her a cup of coffee, but it was never drunk. By the time morning came around, it was cold as ice and Arya hadn't even looked at it. She didn't think she could fall asleep if she wanted to. Sleep was a stranger.

She did not know how much time had passed, or what time it was when a nurse finally came to say that she could go see him. She barely heard the words that were being said to her. Things like 'coma' and 'stable' were drifting around in her head, but also phrases like 'his condition is uncertain' were clashing into her ears as well.

"We don't know if he's going to pull through," the nurse's voice echoed from some far off place. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he's a fighter..."

They stopped outside a door, and the nurse opened it.

"Five minutes," she said with a sad smile.

Arya felt herself walking into the room, but not sure how she really managed it. Sansa and Jon tried to come with her, but she shook her head and the door shut behind her, and she was in darkness.

He was lying on the bed, all sorts of tubes and wires connected to him, a heart monitor at his side, beeping quietly. His face was pale and drained of blood and unshaven, and there were dark hollows under his eyes. When she reached out a shaking hand to slid her fingers against his, they were cold and unmoving. She took a shuddering breath and sat on the bed, slowly shifting her weight onto the mattress as if it were made of spiders webs. There was a long moment of silence as she struggled, her voice cracked.

"Gendry Waters... You told me yesterday that you loved me, but I guess you already know that," she said, staring at her shoes, still splattered with blood. He did not respond. The monitor beeped on and on, and there was only silence as she watched him, tears slowly leaking out of her eyes. She brushed then away with a shaking hand.

"You couldn't have done it properly, could you?" She said with a shaky laugh. "You know, most boys take a girl out, go to the cinema, buy her dinner, and then-then they tell her they love her. But even then, it's probably just to get into her pants."

Gendry didn't move a muscle. His face was as smooth as glass. His stupid face.

"All right," Arya relented, "I know, that wasn't funny. I'm sort of out of jokes at the moment. I think, given the circumstances, you might understand."

She let out a sigh, her lips trembling, snot and tears mixing on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still came, and she knew she would never be able to stop them. All those years of wearing a mask and closing herself away and she couldn't do it now. All that practice, gone to shit.

"You know, you accused me of knowing all along, that you loved me..." Arya started out, her hands quivering. She took a great, shaky breath. "And you were right," she said, starting to cry in earnest, "I did know. I was everything you accused me of being. I was selfish, I was a bitch to you and I am sorry. I just thought... I thought it would screw everything up. But... But I was wrong. And I don't deserve you, not really. Even after all that shitty stuff you did. It was all because of me anyway. And I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

She started to sob, and put her hands over her face, covering it and crying into her palms, ugly sobs gasping at her throat.

"You can't die on me, Gendry Waters," she choked out. "You can't. I won't let you. And you know why?"

She took Gendry's hand and pressed it against her damp cheek, leaning towards his face, his glorious, stupid face, the beeping of the monitor sounding in the background.

"Because I love you."

Taking a deep breath, she leaned in and kissed him. There was nothing there. Just unmoving lips. _Wake up damn you, _she thought, tears running down her face. _Just please wake up and kiss me back._

But that was when the monitor stopped, and then suddenly started begin screaming, and everyone was flooding into the room, and they were pulling her off him, and he disappeared from sight.

**remember what I said about the thing with the happy endings and yeah *hides* **


End file.
